Dovahkiin
by Laina Inverse
Summary: Auriel Talmanari has been many things throughout her long life. First a savior of the world, then an agent for the Thalmor. Abandoned and marked for death in the northlands of Skyrim, Auriel must build power bases to protect herself, and forge strong alliances. And maybe along the way become just a little more a person and less the machine she made of herself. COMPLETE
1. Prologue: Captured

Prologue:

Capture

It really wasn't supposed to end the way it had. The information was good. She'd told the Thalmor agents in the area where to expect Ulfric. They had found a way to let that new General, Tullius, know. The plan had been simple enough on the outset. Catch Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak and bring him to Cyrodiil for justice. She was meant to watch and report back on how that went down, if it was successful, or if it failed, and the reasons therein. That was her job among the Thalmor; to spy.

She was _not_ meant to wake on the floor of a wagon, propped up against the headboard with wrists bound, and injuries acquired.

Awareness returned slowly, but it did return. It was accompanied by pain, though she was accustomed to clamping down on that sort of reaction. She kept herself limp, feigning unconsciousness as her other senses faded in, one by one. The motion of the cart made her want to grimace; she wasn't supposed to be _in_ a cart. The last thing she remembered was being shot out of her perch, and then the ground rushing up to meet her.

Well, being shot certainly explained why her left shoulder hurt like hell. It had been a risk to not wear armor when watching that ambush go down, but she had hoped the dull brown clothing and hat would keep her from being too noticeable in the ensuing fight. Apparently her luck had been not only bad, but _bad_. It also explained the various bruises she could feel, and probably the nasty knot she would have somewhere on her head.

She heard voices. Males were talking. Nords by the sound of them; they had very distinct accents at times. She did her best to ignore them, trying to understand just what had happened. She wasn't _supposed_ to be caught in the ambush, and she had been subtle in her magic.

….hell, it was probably the subtle that had caught the attention of the Thalmor with the group.

There was a sudden, almost abrupt shift, followed by some swearing; she gave in to the urge to open her eyes and take stock of the situation. They were in the mountains, there was no doubt about that. The air had a particular bite to it that this northernmost country claimed as its own, but the mountains were a sharper cold entirely. The cart contained three others; two Stormcloaks—the Jarl being one of them—and another Nord that she didn't recognize. Mentally she started cursing, in every language she knew. This was beyond bad... somehow she was going to have to signal another Thalmor agent and get this corrected.

"So, you're finally awake."

She flicked her gaze to the Nord nearest to her, a large, blonde haired man in the blue Stormcloak uniform. He acted friendly enough, but that was probably because they were all in binds now; most Nords had issues with an Altmer, even one who looked as she did.

She was shorter on average than most of her Aldmeri kin, just barely clearing 5'7" in her bare feet. Her eyes were another thing that set her apart, being an untraditional bright blue as opposed to the typical green or gold. Her hair, when not hidden under a hat, was a fiery red that she wore long, hanging to her waist. Like most of her kin, her skin was a fine, pale gold color, and she was rather vain about it. Her mother, having seen her coloration, named her for the dragon god. Akatosh, in the human tongue. Auriel in her own.

Auriel Talmanari grimaced a little and shrugged her good shoulder. The cold was making old injuries ache, and she felt every bit her three hundred some years as adventurer and spy, if not a little more due to the new injuries.

"I am," she said coolly.

"You were trying to cross the border, huh?" he asked.

"No."

"...you got caught up in the ambush, same as the rest of us," he said after a minute. "If you weren't trying to cross the border..."

"My business is not yours," she said shortly. "Though it seems I may share your fate."

He seemed surprised at her abruptness, but Auriel hadn't lived this long by trusting newly-met strangers. Even strangers in common bond as they were. She had been that naive once, but those day were long behind her.

She shifted, looking up as they passed through the archway into a fort, and the man across from her snorted a little, glancing over his shoulder.

"Damn Thalmor," he spat a little, over the side of the wagon as the fourth member of the cart—a horse thief—prayed to the Divines for rescue. "No doubting it was them _and_ that bastard Tullius who sold us out. Damned Empire."

Auriel simply watched and listened. The Thalmor watched the cart go by, and she gave a subtle signal that _should_ have made them sit up and take note of her. Instead they continued to watch her go past with cold, uncaring eyes. She signaled again, less subtly, but the only reaction was a raised eyebrow, and the slightest of mouth movements.

'Save yourself.'

She gritted her teeth a little at the arrogance of the remark; if she outed herself as a Thalmor here, they'd denounce her. She was no fool. Had they abandoned her then? Or had she been set up to die? For what reasons?

The wagon came to a halt, and she stiffly climbed to her feet with the others, mind working furiously. She could attempt to make a break for it, she mused as they climbed down from the wagon and stood in a ragged group. Her arms might've been bound, but she was no slouch at illusion or alteration.

She was just sinking into that idea when the legate interrupted her thoughts. Her concentration was fairly shot as it was, and the idea that she might not get out of this was a nerve wracking one. It didn't help that she wanted to know why she hadn't yet been pulled out of the line, when she so clearly didn't belong there.

"As your names are called, move over there," the harsh woman ordered, pointing to where the headsman waited.

Another Nord, this one in Imperial armor, stepped forward with a board and some papers in his hand.

"Ulfric Stormclaok, Jarl of Windhelm," he said briskly.

The bound and gagged Jarl moved stiffly, but obediently, in the direction of the execution block. Auriel snorted a little to herself; his reputation may have been deserved, but it was also exaggerated. Like so many others.

"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric," the talkative Nord murmured.

"Ralof of Riverwood."

Her talkative, curious Nord went next.

"Lokiir of Rorikstead."

The horse thief this time. Auriel wondered if her name was on their lists. Perhaps that was a chance to get a break.

"No, I'm not a rebel!" the horse-thief protested. And then bolted. "You can't catch me!"

"Archers!" the legate bellowed.

The thief didn't make it very far. Auriel shook her head a little; poor fool had no way of escaping like that. Maybe he wad preferred that death to the headman's axe...

"Anyone else feel like running?!" the legate demanded.

As other names were called, Auriel was left standing, and shifted a little, wondering if she ought to cast invisibility on herself or just wait and see if providence would deliver her. Or her fellow Thalmor.

"You there. Step forward."

She hissed a little; her time to think had passed and she had lost her chance to be invisible or vanish in the crowd. Reluctantly she moved forward, closer to the brown-haired Nord.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Auriel Talmanari," she said shortly.

"You're not with the Thalmor embassy, are you High Elf?" he asked, looking back down at his papers. "No, that can't be right... Captain, she's not on the list. What should we do?"

Auriel kept her expression neutral. Maybe she could catch a break, maybe she couldn't. Her window was narrowing on possibilities though, and if she didn't act soon...

"Forget the list," the legate snapped. "She goes to the block."

"By your orders, Captain," he sighed a little, then turned and gave Auriel was seemed to be an apologetic look. "I'm sorry. We'll see your remains are returned to the Summerset Isle. Follow the captain, please."

Internally she hissed a few curses; she was running out of time and chances, and thought furiously as she moved to join the crowd. Only peripherally did she take note of what was happening, mind flicking through spell options in a last-ditch effort to escape. A sound echoing through the mountains made her head snap up to the cloudy blue sky, and she was not the only one to turn their gaze.

A chill crept down her spine, one that reminded her intimately of when she had been locked in the Imperial Prison all those centuries ago. There was a feeling in the air, an anticipatory one, thought it came not from Stormcloaks or Imperial soldiers. The last time she had felt this way, she had been just shy of her sixth decade, and the old Emperor himself had marched straight through her cell into the hands of death, starting the Oblivion Crisis.

She hoped that whatever was going to happen did so before her head lay on the ground.

The sound came again, after the beheading of the first Stormcloak, and Auriel tuned out the world briefly, until the Imperial soldier broke into her thoughts.

"To the block prisoner. Nice and easy."

Auriel grimaced a little, twisting her bound wrists futilely. She should have been more focused on her escape. Slowly she approached the block, kneeling before the legate could kick and shove her down. The blood from the Stormcloak's body was warm, wet, and foul on her neck, and she allowed herself a grimace of distaste.

"What in Oblivion is _that_?!" came the demand from Tullius, halting everyone in their tracks.

Auriel's eyes tracked the black form, wondering the exact same thing. It was huge, winged, and roared before flinging itself upwards into the clouds. But dragons were only myths...

"Sentries, what do you see?"

"It's in the clouds!" one protested.

"DRAGON!" came the yell from a female Nord as the black creature landed on the tower directly above the execution spot. It shook the ground as it landed, and the headsman was knocked from his feet.

Auriel rolled away from the block as the dragon—black as night, with fiery red eyes—did _something_, and a feeling slammed into and through her before she could really even pause. It knocked her down, blurring the world around her briefly. It felt almost like magic, but _more_; a fire was racing through her blood and bones, and it wasn't terribly pleasant. She thought she cried out, and hoped she hadn't; she couldn't afford to be thought of as weak right now.

He hearing faded in after a few minutes, as a rough hand grabbed her and yanked her upright.

"Come on, get _up!_" Ralof exclaimed. "We've got to get out of here!"

She staggered to her feet and hissed a quiet Aldmeri curse as she allowed him to pull her over to a nearby tower. As the door was slammed shut behind them, her vision began to clear, and she took in her surroundings; more Stormcloaks. Grand. All of them untied, and most of them giving her suspicious looks. Well, that was to be expected really, if she'd been bundled into the cart with the lot of them, despite not being a Stormcloak herself.

"Jarl Ulfric, what is that?" Ralof asked, making her glance over to see the unbound Jarl. "Could the legends be true?"

"Legends don't burn down buildings," the Jarl said quietly.

Auriel kept both sardonic snort and expression to herself. This Nord had no idea what legends could do. What _she_ could do. She borrowed a dagger briefly from a table and cut through her bindings, then shook her wrists lightly to regain feeling in them before she started up the stairs. Another Stormcloak was near the middle of the tower, trying to clear some fallen stone out of the way.

"If we can just clear these rocks-" he began.

He never got to finish. The black dragon slammed his head through the stone wall, making Auri stagger back down half a flight, only to be caught by Ralof who had been following her up. She was willing to swear she'd heard _words_ in the dragon's roar, words she could almost taste, could almost speak. There was nothing but ash left of the Stormcloak after the dragon winged away, and Ralof pushed her back up the stairs after a moment.

"Look, there's a way out," he pointed towards the roof of the inn next to the tower. "Jump over. We'll catch up!"

She shrugged a little and climbed out the newly made opening, launching herself easily over the gap and the flames that were trying to take the house. She didn't need the help in escaping, and almost wished she could see her Thalmor compatriots now. What they might say... still, their insistance that she save herself was disquieting, and needed further thought. When she got room for it, at least. Which was _not_ while meteors fell from the sky and smoke choked the air.

She dropped down through the broken floor and moved back out into the daylight, just as the black dragon landed again, nearly scorching a child in the process. The Imperial soldier who had expressed genuine regret over her impending death looked at her in surprise.

"Still alive then? Keep close to me if you want to stay that way!"

Auriel didn't bother suppressing the eye roll this time. Why they thought she needed their help was beyond her. She left him behind almost immediately, tucking herself close to the wall as the dragon landed on it. He was, she decided as she watched him burn a soldier who had been firing arrows at him, impressive. And useful in this moment. As long as she made it out alive she would be pretty okay with this particular fort being turned into a pile of rubble and ruin.

The gate, she discovered, was closed, and a mass of rock and flames; there was no escape that way. She glanced around, wondering if she could make a break for one of the gaps in the wall. The soldiers were too preoccupied with the dragon to really care about one fleeing Aldmeri woman.

"Hadvar! Into the Keep soldier, we're _leaving!_" Tullius bellowed at the soldier behind her.

Auriel's lips quirked slightly, eyes narrowing in satisfaction. So there was a way out through the Keep itself. Well, she was certainly going to take advantage of that! Everything else could wait for later, escape was currently paramount.

She dodged around rubble, ignored the spat the two Nords had, and shoved her way into the Keep through the nearest useful-looking door.

Auriel wound up in the barracks, and leaned up against the wall with a sigh of relief. That was one hurdle managed. The Keep was likely to be harder to bring down than the rest of the fort; it was made to withstand things like this. She shook her head a little and yanked off the hat confining her hair, using it to wiped as much of the blood off of her as she could. Hadvar staggered in a few minutes later, as she started going through chests looking for something _useful_ to wear.

"Was that really a dragon?" he muttered, staring rather blindly ahead. "The bringer's of the end times? Now?"

"Whether it was or was not, you should consider things in the moment," she said shortly. "Save the 'what if' for after safety has been achieved."

It was easy to give the advice; harder to take it. She herself wanted to sit and chew on this new issue with the Thalmor and her. Maybe if she made it to her next dead drop there would be information for her. An explanation, even, though those were rare.

"...yeah, you're right. You'd better find some gear. I'm going to see if there's some burn salve around."

Auriel just nodded and kept poking through chests. She found a small measure of gold, and a helmet she ignored—it was Imperial made and at _best_ would simply be uncomfortable—before she found anything of use. She wasn't slow about shedding her clothes either, and Hadvar's stutter of surprise when he saw her in her underthings made her smirk slightly, even as she donned the armor itself.

"You're... not taking the sword?" he asked after a minute.

"...My greatest skill lies in the school of destruction," she replied after a moment of thought. "I will not be in more danger than you. Now come. You know the keep better than I."

He seemed to be taken aback by her brisk manner, but after a minute obligingly went to the nearby hanging chain and opened the gate. The hall was short, and she heard the Stormcloaks before he did.

"Come on, we've got to keep going," a male voice urged.

"Hold on... I'm out of breath. I won't be much use if we keep rushing around," a female replied.

"Hear that?" Hadvar murmured quietly. "Stormcloaks. Let's see if we can reason with them."

Privately Auriel thought he was being optimistic; the enmity between the two groups ran deep. He pulled the chain and the gate dropped, setting both Stormcloaks to their feet, weapons drawn. He carefully stepped out, holding up empty hands.

"Hold on now," he said carefully. "We just want out, same as you."

They started moving in, as Auriel stepped quietly up behind him, and froze as her hands flickered with fire. Her expression dared them to try it; she was in as foul a mood as she would allow herself, and if they set her off, she had no qualms with taking their lives. Wisely, the both lowered their blades, and Auriel dismissed the magic.

"Only until we're out," the blonde woman snapped. "Once we go our separate ways-"

Auriel simply pushed past her, taking out the key that had been with the armor and unlocked the gate. The three Nords just stared at her in surprise.

"Save your vendetta for a time when we are not all in danger of dying," she said coolly, stepping through. "Even a keep will not last forever under the assault of the dragon, which is ongoing. Move."

She started down the stairs without seeing if they would follow; truthfully she didn't much care. She just wanted out of the keep before it came down on her head. She heard them shuffle down behind her and permitted herself a sharp smile; they might have not been fond of her race, but she had a way of pitching her voice that suggested command. It had been a hard-won skill and she was not above abusing it if it meant getting the hell out before everything came down around them.

Hadvar was the closest to her when the ceiling started coming down. He yanked her back as the stonework collapsed, sending dust and rocks flying everywhere. The pebbles were no harm to any of them, it was the dust that was pervasive, and they all spent the next few minutes remembering how to breathe.

"Damn," Hadvar managed when he caught his breath. "That dragon doesn't give up easy. Come on, through the storeroom."

Auriel was quick to push the door open, and quicker still to grab things that would come in handy down the road. She didn't have access to an alchemy table _now_, but she would soon enough, and the more ingredients she had, the more poisons and potions she could make that would be of use in the future.

The other end of the door lead to stairs going down. A prison, and, from what she could hear, a torture room. Three Stormcloaks fought with the two Imperial torturers, and it was there that the two cautious allies became enemies as well. Auriel had no patience for it, and lit them both on fire. They died screaming, and she blocked it out of her mind as Hadvar helped his fellow soldiers.

"You two came along right on time," the head torturer said. He had an oily voice that Auriel took an immediate dislike to. "Seems this lot was a bit unhappy about the way we've been treating their fellows."

Again Auriel tuned out the talking, instead going through things that might be useful to her. A handful of lockpicks and a book joined the two potions and ingredients she'd picked up, and she wasn't slow in opening a nearby cell that held a dead mage. She had long since gotten over her squeamishness at picking over dead bodies for things like coin and equipment. And even if she couldn't use much, she could definitely sell it. The hood she tied on, relishing the faint warmth and slight muffling of voices it caused.

It was tempting to leave all three Imperial soldiers behind, but in the interest of staying alive she followed them instead, heading down the hallway past the cells. An opening in the wall belied the parting words of the torturer, that there was no way out in their direction, and she climbed through carefully; a keep was one thing, but she wasn't a big fan of anything with ceilings that hung low.

And of course, they weren't out of the woods yet. A small band of Stormcloaks had made it this far as well, and there was no negotiating with these ones. The fight was quick, bloody, and annoying as the ones on the far side of the cavern had bows and arrows. Auriel snatched one up, and both quivers as well as she walked past, and pulled a lever that lowered a bridge leading further into the caverns.

The assistant torturer stayed behind, but Hadvar followed her quickly enough.

"I never knew _this_ was attached to the Keep," he muttered, looking around cautiously. "I hope there's a way out through here..."

Auriel was inclined to agree; wandering lost in a dark cavern was hardly her idea of fun. Especially with only a few food supplies. Behind them rock rumbled threateningly, and she covered her ears reflexively as it crashed down, destroying the bridge. Hadvar jumped a foot, and spun.

"...I guess we're lucky that didn't come down on top of us," he said once the dust had cleared. "The others will have to find another way out."

Auriel stepped up to the edge and glanced down.

"It is only a five foot drop, and there is a connecting tunnel," she pointed out. "Your fellows will be fine, assuming they make it this far."

"Ah... yeah. Right."

She shook her head a little as she bound up her long hair in a tight braid, and tucked it under the hood she'd lifted from the dead mage.

"Let's go. The sooner we are out, the better."

He nodded, and they set off through the cavern.


	2. One: Riverwood

One:

Riverwood

Five spiders and a bear later and they had reached the outside world. Auriel breathed a sight of relief, and started to slide back the hood when Hadvar laid a hand on her arm. She stiffened at the casual touch, but forewent retaliation as he moved to duck behind a large rock as the black dragon winged overhead, heading northwards.

"...It looks like he's gone for good this time," he said after a minute. "Though we probably shouldn't stick around to find out. The closest town from here is Riverwood. My uncle is the blacksmith. I'm sure he'd be willing to help you out."

Auriel gave him a skeptical look. Hadvar shrugged a little.

"He's a good man."

"Few are good enough to trust on word alone," she replied.

"Well, since it's closest, I was going to head there myself. You could travel with me for a time. I do owe you for helping me out, so let me repay you by putting in a good word with my Uncle?"

She nodded a little and followed behind as he started walking. A cold land, but bountiful enough if one knew where to look, she stripped several plants of their flora as they walked.

"You're not one for conversation, are you?"

Auriel shrugged a little, then hissed, raising a hand to her injured shoulder.

"I do not spend much time around people with whom I need to converse," she replied. "I keep to myself."

"Well, listen, perhaps you should join up with the Legion," he said after a minute. "We could use the help of people like you. Especially if the rebels have themselves a dragon. General Tullius is the only one who can stop them in that case."

Auriel shook her head a little. What she needed at the moment was more information than she had. She needed to make it back to her camp at the least, or even to her next dead drop site. She needed to go back to where the ambush had taken place and find out just what had gone wrong. For all she was a spy and could find the Thalmor Embassy, that was a mission of last resort, when all other paths had failed.

Mostly because if she openly went to the Embassy, she was outing herself as to who and what she was, and even in a sparsely populated land like Skyrim, word would spread. While Aldmeri didn't generally _avoid_ the Embassy, most who lived outside the Summerset Isle—Alinor—didn't usually visit it either. The Thalmor had given all High Elves a bad reputation, and being regarded with suspicion was the least of the issues.

The dirt path eventually connected to a real road, and Auriel heard Hadvar sigh a little in relief. The open air revealed a mountain, and on that mountain what looked to be ancient ruins. Auri would have ignored them entirely had Hadvar not slowed to a stop.

"You see that ruin up there?" he pointed and she glanced up again, an eyebrow raising slightly. "Bleak Falls Barrow. When I was a boy, that place always used to give me nightmares. Draugr creeping down the mountain to climb through my window at night, that sort of thing. I have to admit, I still don't much like the look of it."

Auriel cocked her head a little, studying it.

"An old ruin, then?"

"Yeah. There's rumors that it was built to worship dragons a long time ago."

She filed the place away; if she had the chance she wouldn't mind exploring, but other deeds came first.

A switchback path brought them to three standing stones, which she ignored. The Guardian stones were a cute Nordic legend, but that was all they were. She would not look to them for help with skills she had won through her many years and hard work. Instead she took in the scenery with the eyes of one who is used to sudden ambushes. Fortunately, there seemed to be nothing inclined to attack either of them, though she didn't necessarily drop her guard.

"Listen," Hadvar's voice pushed through her thoughts and she stifled an annoyed sound; he _really_ liked to talk. "We're almost to Riverwood, so I want to say this: as far as I'm concered, you've more than earned your pardon. But until we can get that confirmed by General Tullius, it would be a wise idea to avoid confrontations or... complications with other Imperial soldiers."

She snorted a little.

"I have little intention of doing anything that might get me in a jail cell," she said with icy dignity. "I have a great number of things that need doing."

"...Well, I'm just saying."

"Your lists were burned with the fort," she retorted. "And if you'll recall, _I_ was not on any of them. I think all will be well, and your concern is unnecessary."

It was sharp enough that he shut his mouth on whatever he might have said next, something Auriel regarded with quiet satisfaction. She needed to _think_, not be badgered.

Riverwood, when they reached it, was a small town. At a swift glance Auriel noticed a trade store, the blacksmith, a mill and an inn, with a few small houses in between. Beside her, Hadvar released a relieved sigh.

"Things look quiet enough here," he said, starting forward. "Come on. There's my uncle."

He lead the way to the blacksmith's shop, where a large man who bore no small resemblance to Hadvar was working at a grindstone.

"Uncle Alvar, hello!"

The older man stood quickly, surprised, and moved to the edge of the porch.

"Hadvar? What're you doing here? Are you on leave from..." Alvar trailed off, and Auri sensed more than saw him looking the two of them over. "Shor's bones... What happened to you boy? Are you in some kind of trouble?"

It was a fair question. They were both streaked with dirt, blood and muck, and Hadvar's armor was dented in a few places. They had both gotten away with relatively light injuries, fortunately enough; restoration was Auriel's _worst_ skill, and she'd never managed to find the time to fix that when poultices and potions could work just as fast.

"Shh, uncle, keep your voice down," Hadvar said, laying a hand on Alvar's broad shoulder. "I'm fine. But we should go inside to talk."

"What's going on?" the smith asked. "Who's this?"

Auriel moved up the steps to stand beside Hadvar, though it was more so that the older man would stop exclaiming everything so loudly. Clearly chattering ran in the family, and she did not approve. Not when she needed to go as unremarked upon as possible.

"She's a friend. Saved my life in fact," Hadvar explained. Auriel's eyes flicked slightly in surprise; she had hardly done that. "Come on, I'll explain everything, but we need to go inside. It's been a difficult morning."

Alvar looked between them for a moment, then sighed.

"Okay, okay, come inside then. Sigrid will get you something to eat and then you can tell me all about it."

Auriel didn't begrudge him his suspicious look, only shrugged her good shoulder lightly and followed behind Hadvar. Behind her she heard an old woman start babbling about the dragon, and a young man dismiss her entirely. She buried her cynical smile deep as she entered the house, shutting out the conversation; soon enough the whole of Tamriel was likely to know that the dragons had come back to Skyrim.

She was going to have to find a library and do some research on the beasts; legends didn't burn down villages, no, but these dragons were clearly no longer legend, and there should be something of use to her in a book seller's shop. Of course, that assumed she wasn't leaving for another assignment after talking to these people. She wouldn't be sad of that; Skyrim was not a friendly country to her.

"Sigrid, we have company!"

An older woman came up the stairs and smiled warmly at both of them Auriel nodded lightly in greeting, but that was the extent of it. The brunette Nord didn't seem off-put by her attitude in the least, nor did the child who trailed behind, then practically jumped on Hadvar. He grimaced a little as he caught her, and quickly set the girl back down, raising a hand to his side.

"Hadvar, we've been so worried about you!" Sigrid exclaimed. "Come and sit, and I'll get you both something to eat."

Now that she was reminded of it, food sounded like an excellent idea. Auriel hadn't eaten since the night before, and her body was not slow in reminding her that she was hurt as well. So she took the offered seat, and nodded her thanks as the woman set stew and cheese before the both of them. Alvar was polite enough to let them finish eating before he started in on the questions.

"All right boy, what's the big mystery. Why do you look like you've been arguing with a cave bear?"

"...well, we did do that," Hadvar grimaced a little. "I'm... not sure where to start, actually."

"The beginning is a good place," Auriel said dryly.

The little girl who had wandered up behind Sigrid giggled a little. Hadvar slanted her an annoyed look, and Auriel simply shrugged, and nibbled on the bread she'd been given, the picture of innocence. She wasn't precisely a nice person, and it was fun, occasionally, to irritate people. She did it so rarely, after all.

"You know I was assigned to General Tullius' guard," he continued after a minute. "We were stopped in Helgen, when we were attacked... by a dragon."

"A dragon?" The disbelief was clear in Alvar's voice. "You're not _drunk_, are you boy?"

"Husband," Sigrid's voice was scolding. "Let him tell his story."

Auri hid her smile behind a mug of mead; she was fairly sure that Sigrid didn't believe Hadvar either. The girl though, she looked like she believed, and was fascinated by the idea.

"Not much more to tell, really. This dragon flew over and wrecked the whole place. Mass confusion. I don't think I'd have made it out if not for my friend here. No idea if anyone else made it..."

Eyes turned to Auriel, who set the mug down lightly.

"It was the prudent thing to do," she said quietly. "No one person would have made it out alive on their own. The bear at the end of the tunnel showed that. In tandem, however, the chances were higher, and therefore, acceptable."

The baffled expression had a hint of a smirk flick across her face. Good enough. They didn't need to know that she _could_ have made it out without him, but it was safer to play young and innocent. She was used to using her looks in that regard. Few of the short lived raves believed she was past her first century. Fewer still knew that she was into her third.

"I need to get back to Solitude and let them know what's happened," Hadvar said after a minute. "I was hoping you might help us out a bit. Food. Supplies, a place to sit and rest for a bit..."

Alvar nodded after a moment, and glanced at Auriel, who was waiting patiently.

"Of course. Any friend of Hadvar's is a friend of mine. I'm glad to help however I can. Feel free to help yourself to the things lying around the house."

"My thanks," she said quietly.

"...I hate to impose on you, since you obviously need the rest, but we'll need your help as well," Alvar said carefully. "The Jarl needs to know there's a dragon about, but there's few in the village that can leave their work long enough to take a message. Fewer still who look like they can defend themselves the way you can. If you could get word to Jarl Balgruuf in Whiterun, we'd be in your debt."

She considered the idea, then nodded. Whiterun, if she recalled her map correctly, wasn't more than an hour's walk from this small town. It would be easy enough to take such a message, especially after being given run of the house for so little.

"All right then. I'd better get back to work. You two make yourselves at home. Rest up. You need it."

As Alvar left, Auriel returned to her contemplations. They were quickly interrupted by Hadvar, who lightly patted her head, making her stiffen. Being touched by anyone, friendly or not, was a _huge_ issue with her; she discouraged casual contact very vehemently. Hadvar looked surprised by the reaction and quickly pulled away when she turned a sour look on him.

"It's nice to be back in a friendly spot isn't it?" he asked after a hesitant minute. "I'm going to lay up here for a while I think. Give these injuries of mine time to heal. You'll be all right on your own, won't you?"

"I will be fine," she said shortly, adjusting the hood slightly.

"If you go down to Whiterun, you can take a carriage to Solitude," he said after a moment. "Pass on the message that I'm not dead if I don't beat you there first."

"If I have the chance," she shrugged a little. "As I said, I have affairs of my own to tend to, and it is more likely you will make it back first."

She had to get back to Darkwater Crossing, and from there, to her camp. And possibly from there to her dead drop point. She had hidden her things well, but that didn't necessarily mean they would be there. Especially not if it had been a few days. That would be a shame; she'd left her skeleton key and Grey Fox Cowl there, not to mention the arms and armor that she had come to depend upon.

Auriel perused the house carefully, taking a few things here and there. Money, mostly, and a few pieces of food. She would have to buy new armor to tide her over until she got her own things back, which was just plain annoying, and the more things she could sell so that she could buy, the better. Idly she wondered if Alvar would give her a discount on decent leather armor, since this didn't seem a town of enough size to get at stronger things. A pity; it was going to take time and effort to find some decent glass armor if her amber stuff was gone. And there was no way into the Shivering Isles from here.

Not that she wanted to go. The last time she'd visited, Giles had seemed very much like the Madgod she remembered, and Sheogorath was not a Daedric Prince she was terribly fond of. She could not afford to lose herself to madness.

She found just enough to buy a set of leather armor from Alvar, and was not at all sad to trade away the Imperial armor. Useful, maybe, but it clanked, and she was not that fond of making noise as she walked. He couldn't, however, buy everything she wanted to sell, and directed her instead to the Riverwood Trader.

"Well, one of us has to do something!" she heard a woman snap as she pushed open the door to the shop.

"I said no!" came the sharp reply from an equally irritated male. "No adventures, no theatrics, _no_ thief-chasing!"

Auriel let her eyes adjust to the lower light inside, and raised an eyebrow slightly. Apparently the shop had been broken into and she was walking into an argument on what to do about it. Idly she wondered if Alvar couldn't have spared the breath to warn her as she let the pair—she couldn't tell if they were married or siblings and didn't really care either—battle it out.

"Well what are you going to do then, huh?" the woman demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. "Let's hear it!"

"We are _done_ talking about this!" was the annoyed reply. Auriel shifted a little, and he jumped slightly, then coughed a little in embarrassment. "Oh, uh... a customer. Sorry you had to hear that."

She shrugged a little and stepped up to the counter, displaying what she had picked up. They bartered for her small trinkets, and she pocketed the coin, then gave into the edge of curiosity. Perhaps she could net herself a bit more if she asked.

"Did something happen?"

"Uh, yeah... we uh, did have a bit of a break in. But there's still plenty of things," Lucan gestured lightly to the laden shelves. "They were only after one thing."

"Really? That must be lucky. What was it?"

"An ornament. Solid gold, in the shape of a dragon's claw."

Now both eyebrows went up, and the Altmer focused her attention sharply. He stepped back in surprise.

"Perhaps I could retrieve it for you," she said after a minute.

She was woefully short of coin still, and would need much more before she made it back to her camp. It couldn't hurt to offer this.

"You would? I've got some coin coming in from my last shipment. It's _yours_ if you can bring that thing back!"

She nodded lightly, inwardly pleased. Money was a decent enough reason to delay her return. It was all too likely that her camp was picked over by now, and her dead drop was miles away at best. She had to tide herself over somehow. Tombs usually had good money, and easy traps, things she could bypass with little effort.

"If you're really going to get those thieves, you should head to Bleak Falls Barrow, northeast of town."

"So _this_ is your plan?" was the sharp comment from the woman.

"Yes, it is," Lucan said shortly. Then smirked. "So now you don't have to go."

"Oh _really?_ Well, I think your new helper needs a guide."

Auriel's snort was quiet enough to be missed. She didn't really _need_ a guide, but she was willing to humor this woman, briefly. Watching it tweak him made it entertaining.

"What?" He gaped for a moment, then sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Oh, by the Eight, _fine,_ but only to the edge of town!"

The woman smiled in triumph, and Auriel suppressed a roll of her eyes.

"I'm Camilla, Lucan's sister," she introduced herself, standing up. "Come on, it's this way. We'll have to go through town and cross the bridge to reach the path to the Barrow." As they stepped out, she pointed up, and Auriel obligingly followed her hand. "But you can see it from here, though. That mountain, just beyond the buildings."

Auriel nodded and fell into step behind her as Camilla moved through the small town.

"Those thieves must be mad to hide of there," the brunette continued. "There's nothing but traps, trolls, and who knows what else up there! I wonder why the only wanted that old claw anyways. There's a lot more worth just as much, if _not_ more than that thing. He found it about a year after he opened the store... never really explained where it came from either."

The stopped at the bridge, and Auriel sighed a little; hopefully the girl would go back soon. She really didn't want company on this venture.

"This is the bridge out of town," Camilla explained. "Cross it and take the road northwest to reach the Barrow." Then she grimaced. "I guess I should get back to my brother. He'll throw a fit if I take too long. Like a little kid, really."

The redhead nodded slightly and started across the bridge. This would hopefully not take too long,


	3. Two: Bleak Falls Barrow

Two:

Bleak Falls Barrow

The path up the mountain wasn't steep, but it was damn cold, and Auriel tucked her hood a little more around her head as she wished for a cloak of some sort. Had she realized she would head up, she would have bought one from Lucan...

She settled for muttering a few choice Aldmeri curses against the cold as she made the upwards trek. Luck was on her side, though it didn't seem so at first; a small group of bandits had been manning the crumbling watch tower, and one of them had a very _nice_ fur cloak that she was not above pilfering for her own warmth. It was a good choice too, as the farther up she went, the colder it got.

An icy wind blew snow into her face, and she hissed a little at the bite of it as she rounded the rocky spire that separated her from the barrow. It was slightly more intimidating up close, but the presence of bandits took away from her chance to contemplate the weird air the barrow seemed to give off.

Fortunately, bandits were not fireproof. Nor did their armor do much to protect them from her arrows. She'd had over three centuries to perfect her technique; she was no Bosmer, but she knew how to use her weapons of choice, and she was not afraid to kill those who got in her way.

She was a little uncertain about entering the barrow, and was markedly surprised to see the ceiling soar far above her head. She hated enclosed spaces, and had no doubts that this one would get like that soon enough, but for the moment, it wasn't so bad.

It wasn't much _warmer_ inside, but it wasn't so bad. At least the worst of the wind was blocked out, and there was light to see by through the openings in the ceiling. The two bandits at the head of the stairs were easy enough to take out; one tended to die quickly with an arrow through the throat, after all. Their little chest was hardly worth the effort, but extra gold was always nice.

Absently she wondered what would become of the skeleton key she'd gotten from the Daedric Prince Nocturnal. She also wondered what would become of the Gray Fox's hood, two of her favorite items over the years. As she stealthed her way farther into the barrow, she wondered what might become of _her._

There wasn't really a lot to be found in the first part of the barrow. The bandits had effectively cleared it out, and likely sold most of it. Where, she wasn't sure, but that was the best bet. Oh, there were a couple of things she picked up, but on the whole, until she reached the first puzzle door and watched a bandit off himself by _not_ solving the puzzle first, it was pretty empty.

Once the bandit was dead she stepped delicately into the room and looked from the pillars on the floor, to the heads carved on the wall. And snorted.

"I though Nordic burial puzzles were supposed to be difficult, she said, moving to set the pillars correctly. "I could solve this puzzle in my sleep."

Once she was certain the pillars were aligned properly, she reached out and yanked the lever. No darts shot her, and the door opened willingly enough. It was in good repair for an old barrow. The room beyond disappointed only a little. It had treasure, but it also had irritating skeevers that disliked interlopers. And from the way the following tunnel dripped webs, well, it wasn't hard to believe there would be spiders in the ruins as well.

She grimaced a little and pressed on. Fire would take out the spiders. Hopefully.

Her sharp ears heard someone calling out for help as she passed down the tunnel, brushing cobwebs out of her face. She wasn't terribly inclined towards _being_ helpful; she'd killed several bandits, and so far there was no sign of the claw. Perhaps she _should_ have gotten close enough to eavesdrop on the chatting pair at the top.

Ah well. It was too late for that now.

She hadn't expected a spider quite _that_ large, but it went down quick enough, as most spiders did. And behind the spider was a Dunmer, a dark elf, trapped in webs. Auriel straightened a little as he badgered her for help.

"How, I wonder, did you get yourself caught up like that?"

He grimaced.

"Does it matter? Just get me out of these things!"

"Do you have the claw?"

"Yes, the claw, I know how it works! The markings, the claw, the Hall of Stories, I know how it all fits together! Cut me loose and I'll show you!"

She cocked her head slightly; apparently this bandit took her for another of the group. He couldn't have been _more_ wrong, and she wasn't about to enlighten him.

"All right," she said after a moment. "I'll get you down."

And before he could protest, she lifted her hands, and lit everything on fire. She tried to make it quick, since he undoubtedly had the claw _on_ him, and she didn't want it to melt, only sparing a small sniff of distaste as he screamed.

She found the claw all right. To her surprise, it wasn't even warmed. The journal was less fortunate, but enough of it remained for her to figure out that the claw itself was the key to this door in the Hall of Stories. Whatever that was. Undoubtedly she would find out soon enough.

The halls beyond the spider's lair were full of something Auriel had only read about in her studying prior to entering this cold northern land. Draugr. They were almost kin to zombies, though they did not ooze the way those undead did. They lit up almost as fast as skeletons did with their old, dusty bones, and at first they seemed entirely too simple.

Up until she found one that used magicka. She was forced to dodge the ice that would otherwise have coated her, pinning her to the floor, and countered with a fireball that blasted the draugr to pieces. Then she spent the next five minutes muttering a variety of curses against her Thalmor superiors that had thought sending her here was a good idea.

The tomb ended up connecting briefly to a cavern, and she paused there to rest and rebanadage a few of the wounds she'd gained. Forcing restoration wasn't her idea of a good time, even though it likely would have helped. She just didn't have the space yet to safely try. Bandages would do, and a short rest later she moved on.

It led back to the tomb finally, and she spared a few minutes wondering what the place must have looked like when it was first constructed. Nothing like now, clearly, with tree roots making their way in and places collapsing under the shifting weather, but still. It was worth pondering, at least a little.

There was a moment where she realized she was heading deeper in when she could have turned back after getting the claw, then had to admit that the bandit's words had intrigued her. Something beyond the Hall of Stories was worth finding to him, and that generally meant treasure at the least. Money could finance her trip back to Darkwater Crossing in comfort; a carriage, food, and available inns would be nice, if a bit overt.

Deeper into the barrow she went, past more draugr and traps. It was actually quite fun to lure the draugr into a patch of oil and light it up. Clearly the creatures were not known for their brains.

A part of her that still loved delving into ancient mysteries and ruins was taking in everything she could see; Nordic architecture had held up well over the years, even if she couldn't understand what was carved on the walls in the Hall of Stories. Other than being covered in spider webs and mired in dust, they were still clear, and she blew off a bit of dust in her curiosity. It made her miss the old Ayleid ruins of Cyrodiil. They had been so very beautiful, if terribly lonely.

The door at the far end was something worth studying as well. Suffused with carvings in the stone and a trio of moveable rings above where the claw was meant to go, she wondered at the meaning of it, and turned the claw over in her hand. Three images were imprinted on the underside, and she cocked her head a little, then smiled.

"Put the combination on the key, but not the location," she murmured thoughtfully. "Clever."

She altered the rings accordingly, then inserted the claw with care. A twist left, then right, and there was an audible click. She pulled the claw back as the rings rotated until all images were similar, and the door started sinking into the floor. The air the rushed past her was chilled, but fresh, indicating there was another way out of this place.

The cavern beyond the door opened up abruptly, shafts of late evening sunlight pouring down into the area. Water rushed about in small streams, as she carefully moved forward. There was a curved half way of some type blocking one of the waterfalls, near a closed stone casket. She was cautious, but when nothing more than a few bats presented themselves for her inspection—she ducked reflexively, but otherwise was unafraid—she carefully crossed the small stone bridge.

The wall with its carvings drew her in. There almost seemed to be _words_ there, not that she could read, but words that spoke to some part of her. The same sort of feeling as when that black dragon had _roared_ while she lay on the chopping block.

It was a small series of carvings that she rested her hand on. The meaning proceeded to run her down like a runaway horse, and she dropped to her knees in surprise as her vision blurred and her ears rung.

"...Fus," she whispered.

The word did nothing, but then, she sensed she was missing some component that would make it activate. Whatever it was had to wait, however, as the coffin behind her was practically blown open and out climbed a draugr wielding a sword that glowed blue with enchantment. It was also markedly stronger than the ones she'd faced down in her travels through the barrow, and she was forced to dodge quickly before she could retaliate.

And that dodge left her open for an unexpected attack.

_Fus_.

The very air slammed into her, sending her staggering back across the stone to fetch up against the wall she'd so recently left. Her blue eyes went wide as it properly registered... _that_ was what the word could do, if properly keyed. She just had to find the key...

But first she had to end this fight. The draugr might have been tougher and stronger, but it was still slow and couldn't dodge terribly well. Fireballs worked wonderfully at immolating the issue.

The draugr had an interesting number of things on him. Though she was no swordswoamn, preferring her spells and her bow to anything else, she picked up the blade that the creature had been using and fastened it to her hip; if nothing else, she could sell it. The oddly carved stone with writing on the back and what looked to be a map on the front intrigued her enough to stick it in the pouch she'd removed from the dead mages body. Like most mage-made things, it could hold an extraordinary amount of items before it became too heavy, and she was not above taking advantage of it while she needed it.

The path out led her to a lake, afire with the colors of the setting sun. She frowned thoughtfully, then sat down on the rock and started to contemplate. She had to get to her dead drop, a tomb in Ivarstead, before much longer. Orders were likely waiting, as well as money. Or, if nothing else, instructions. Maybe information.

But she was starting to get the nagging feeling that maybe something had gone wrong. The Thalmor she'd signaled should have insisted that she be turned over to them for questioning; instead she'd been told to rescue herself. As if they'd _wanted_ her to go to the chopping block.

No, that was nonsense, she decided after a minute. She had worked tirelessly for the Isles and the Thalmor for over a century now. They would not have abandoned her. Perhaps it was standing orders for any spy... but then, why tell her to signal if not to get pulled out of the worst of the repercussions?

Lightly she drummed her fingers on her knee, then consulted her memorized map of the area. The Thalmor Embassy was not the place to go; that was politics and useless to her at the moment. She needed to find a way to send word to one of her superiors. The dead drop in Ivarstead was her only course of action in that case. They often enchanted the drop, briefly, to allow the passing on of messages, and that would be of great use to her.

First though she needed to rest, and eat something. And then deliver the message to the Jarl of Whiterun, since that should only take a short while.

She nodded firmly to herself and got to her feet, dusting off her knees. She would return the claw, rest at the inn, and then make her way to Whiterun. And then from Whiterun to Ivarstead.

And hopefully, nothing else would happen.


	4. Three: Whiterun

Three:

Whiterun

To her vast displeasure and annoyance, it started raining on the way to Whiterun.

The night had passed uneventfully; after returning the claw to Lucan and bartering for more supplies, she had spent the night at the Sleeping Giant Inn. The innkeep was not the most _friendly_ of women, but Auriel was not the most friendly person herself. The bed was warm, the room was small, and the food was worth the coin. It had even been a quiet night.

She had decided to strike out at the earliest morning hour that was sensible, and so it was shortly after dawn that she left the inn and Riverwood, taking the path down in the direction that the signpost indicated the hold capital rested.

And it had started to rain when she wasn't even halfway there. She muttered in annoyance and drew up her hood, pulling her cloak a little more firmly around her as well. If she could go back to the Summerset Isle, the chance couldn't come soon enough. This country was too cold and wet, and frozen for her tastes.

She bypassed a meadery, sparing it only a briefly thoughtful glance. She was not generally one for a drink of anything outside of fresh water, but on the few occasions she'd tried mead, it hadn't been that bad. Not amazing the way Nords seemed to think, but it wasn't terrible either.

She would have ignored the fight against a giant on a farm entirely, had an arrow not zipped past her nose. She turned on reflex, lightning crackling over her fingertips threateningly, and stalked towards the fight.

It was over before she got there, and a female archer—apparently the one that had almost shot her—moved to intercept.

"Well, that's taken care of. No thanks to _you_."

Auriel's ire grew more pronounced, and she held up a hand that glittered and crackled. All three—for there was another woman and a male there as well—tensed noticeably.

"Your misfired shot nearly hit me," she said with a deceptive gentility. "Tell me precisely why I should not return the favor."

"Well, maybe you need to look where you're going!" the archer retorted.

"Perhaps you need to improve your aim," Auriel replied.

The archer stared at her, surprised, and Auriel lowered her hands, letting the lightning fade away. No point in killing this one, not without a real reason. Tempting though, to give her a solid shock, but then she might have to face the other two, and she was genuinely not in the mood for a fight.

"Besides which, you hardly needed any aid. The three of you easily outmatched the beast."

"Well, naturally," and the archer regained her arrogant tilt. "But a _true_ warrior would have relished the chance to take down a giant!"

"Hmmm," Auriel replied skeptically. "I find myself more attached to my life than interested in tempting fate. Especially not tempting fate alone."

"...Well, that's why I'm here with my Shield-Siblings."

Auriel raised her eyebrows and looked the three warriors over. The archer was a redhead, with hunter's paint streaked across her face and silver eyes. Her armor—if it could really be called that—appeared to be leather, but it was very _brief_ leather, and Auriel found herself wondering if it really protected her at all. It certainly didn't look like it. Hells, it barely looked _warm_, and only reinforced the idea that Nords were quite mad when it came to clothing.

The other woman was a warrior in a mix of leather and somewhat uncured hide. Her eyes and hair were both a dark brown, and she smiled a little at Auriel's assessing gaze. The Altmer considered her briefly, then dismissed her; she was obviously not the one in charge. If anything, she appeared to be new to this, and that made her less than useful.

The lone male of the group towered over the redheaded mage, dark brown hair hanging loosely around his face, which—in her opinion—was in dire need of a shave. His eyes were the same startling silver as the archer's, and his steel armor looked rather battered around the edges. He stiffened a little when she turned her gaze to him, and she found herself a little amused; everything he was thinking was clear on his face. She confused him, possibly unnerved him. Good.

"Shield-Siblings?" Auriel asked after a moment.

"An outside, eh? Never heard of the Companions? We're an honorable order of warriors who show up to solve problems, if the coin is good enough."

The archer's tone suggested it was a good thing; it sounded more like a mercenary band than anything related to honor, but Auriel kept that thought to herself.

"And your home is...?"

"Jorrvaskr, in Whiterun," was the archer's swift reply. "Though if you want to join us, you'll have to talk to Kodlak. He's the adviser of the group, and he has a way of reading people that borders on the uncanny."

Auriel simply shook her head and turned away. There was little of importance here, and less of worth; she had a message to deliver, and a dead drop to reach, preferably sooner rather than later.

She continued up the path, hearing the three warriors congratulate each other on the kill behind her, and shook her head a little as she passed a standing carriage with an unhappy horse and damp driver. Foolishness was what that was.

She bartered away a few gemstones with the Khajiit caravan camped outside the walls; she had always liked the bipedal felines and was not above selling to them, or buying a few of the things they had for sale. Not a lot, but her funds were not as limited as they had been upon exiting Helgen, and she was quite happy to replace some missing gear. Boots with a fur lining were _quite_ welcome in the chill air.

A guard stopped her outside the gate, though he wisely did not draw his weapon.

"Hold. The city is closed with the dragon about. Official business only!"

Auriel cocked her head a little, then nodded slightly.

"I have news for the Jarl about the dragon," she said, her tone coaxing. "From Helgen itself."

There was silence for a minute, then the guard nodded a little, warily. Sensible, really, and wasn't that a rare thing to see?

"All right, but we'll be keeping an eye on you, high elf."

"...of course."

The large gate doors were opened enough to allow her to slip on through, and she found herself wondering a little disdainfully whether these people knew what a small postern gate was for. Then decided it wasn't worth thinking about. It wasn't as if she would be staying.

Whiterun was not a _large_ cities, as cities go, but it wasn't a small township either. It seemed, if anything, to be divided into tiers, with most housing, shops, and markets being on the first tier, a temple of Kynareth, the hall of the Companions, and a few of the larger houses on the second, while the third was reserved for the large home known as Dragonsreach, the Jarl's place.

There was also, to her surprise and irritation, an obvious shrine to Talos near a dead tree. In front of it was a priest, bellowing his words for all to hear. She shook her head a little, and made a mental note to let someone know he was there; this sort of thing was outlawed, even here in Skyrim, and the preaching was just plain annoying. It was that same thing that had gotten Ulfric in trouble, agitating about it. If he'd stayed quiet and left well enough alone, no one would really have _bothered_ about the worship.

She sighed a little as she climbed the stairs to Dragonsreach. Nords lived short lives and didn't often consider the long-term consequences of their actions. Obviously. She would be glad when this was done and she could be free to return to her own duties. Or possibly to a well-earned vacation; her small home in the Isles would be a welcome sight indeed.

The interior of Dragonsreach was high-ceilinged, well-lit, and well-ventilated. Auriel found herself silently approving of it. It was nice to not feel hemmed in by a place. The palace was a mix of wood and stone, and she had a feeling that it would last long after the world was gone. Over the chair where the man she assumed was the Jarl sat, was the skull of a dragon. She studied it a little as she approached; it seemed rather small in comparison to the one that had destroyed the fort.

She halted as a red-haired Dunmer woman approached, sword drawn, and made sure to keep her moves nonthreatening, even a little fearful. Playing up the youngling adventurer angle was nothing new, and it usually got her a small bit of empathy.

"What's the meaning of this interruption?" the dark elf asked sharply. "Jarl Balgruuf is not receiving visitors!"

"I am not so much a visitor as a messenger," Auriel corrected with false timidity. "I come from Helgen with news about the dragon attack."

The sword lowered, and then was sheathed after a moment. The Dunmer woman studied her a moment more, then nodded a little, and her expression did indeed soften slightly; though there was little love lost between Mer races, there was a general sympathy between them. Especially the younger ones.

"Well, that explains why the guards let you in, then. Come on, the Jarl will want to speak with you personally."

Auriel nodded, and followed peaceably behind, more than willing to interrupt the bickering of the two men on the dais.

"Who's this then?" the seated man asked sharply.

"Jarl Balgruuf, she comes from Helgen, and claims she has information for us."

Auriel studied the man, saw strength in his deceptively slumped posture, and elevated her attitude accordingly. He needed to see someone young, quick-witted, with perhaps a touch of naivete; she was an accomplished actress, which was part of why she was so good at being a spy. She bowed shyly as his sharp blue eyes rested on her, and made a slight show of refraining from trying to smooth her armor down in a nervous gesture.

"So, you were at Helgen? Saw this dragon with your own eyes, then?"

She nodded, and used her hands to illustrate the tale.

"The Imperials were working on beheading a group of Stormcloaks," she said, pitching her voice a little higher, and a touch on the breathless side, "including their leader, Jarl Ulfric, when it attacked. Swooped down out of nowhere, my lord, and started breaking every little thing it could!"

"I should have guessed Ulfric would be mixed up in all of this," Balgruuf grumbled, then glanced at the balding man who stood next to the chair. "What do you say _now_ Proventus? Should we continue to trust in the strength of our walls, against a dragon?"

"My lord," the Dunmer interrupted. "We should send troops to Riverwood at once. It's in the most immediate danger. If that dragon is lurking in the mountains-"

"The Jarl of Falkreath will take that as a provocation!" Proventus protested. "He'll assume we're preparing to join Ulfric's side and attack him! We should not-"

"_Enough!_" Balgruuf snapped. "I'll not stand idly by while a dragon burns my hold and slaughters my people! Irileth, send a detachment to Riverwood at once!"

"Yes, my Jarl."

The Dunmer woman—Irileth, Auriel noted—bowed briefly, then moved off down the hall. Proventus grimaced a little.

"If you'll excuse me, I'll return to my duties," he said.

Auriel could _hear_ the sulking note in his voice, and smiled inwardly. All was not well in this household, it seemed. She would have to make a note of that, and possibly her superiors would have someone use that information well.

"That would be best," the Jarl nodded. Then he turned to Auriel, who once more made a show of stifling a nervous movement, as though unfamiliar with being in front of nobility. His face and voice softened noticeably. "Well done. You sought me out, on your own initiative. You've done Whiterun a service, and I won't forget it. Here. Take this as a token of my esteem."

She stepped closer, and he handed her a small pouch, which she put into her larger one with a murmured thanks. She would explore the contents later.

"There is another thing you could do for me," he said slowly. "Something suited to your... particular talents, perhaps. Come, let's go find Farengar, my court wizard. He's been looking into a matter related to these dragons and... _rumors_ of dragons."

Auriel blinked, and backed down the steps a bit. This was _not_ how this particular exchange was meant to go... Thanked, yes, rewarded, certainly, but requested for another excursion? Inwardly she railed against the request, but overtly she only bowed, and moved aside so that the Jarl could lead her to another room.

It was clearly a mage's room; bookshelves lined the walls, all crammed to bursting with books, papers, and scrolls. Along the back wall was an alchemic lab, as well as an enchanter's table. The large desk all but overflowed with more papers, and the man in the chair had the build of a mage. Slender for a Nord, draped in blue robes that hid most of his face, he glanced up a little irritably as the Jarl walked in.

"Farengar. I think I've found someone who can help your... dragon project. Go ahead and fill her in on all the details."

The mage nodded a little, and Auriel moved around the Jarl slightly as he left them. Nord mages, Auriel knew, tended to be a bit condescending on whole, and she was not inclined to put up with that sort of treatment. Especially not when she saw his eyes widen a little, then narrow in something very akin to irritation at her appearance. Just slightly, she lifted her chin, subtly suggesting that if he didn't check his initial reaction, she was not above walking away. He didn't need the young, shy adventurer. He needed the cool, competent mage, and she was very much capable of that role.

"So, the Jarl thinks you can be of some use to me," Farengar began.

"So it would seem," Auriel returned coolly. "I would prefer a quick explanation to a long one, if you please. I have other things I am required to do."

He blinked, clearly taken aback by the abruptness of her tone.

"Well, I could use someone to fetch something for me," he continued after a moment. Auriel raised an eyebrow, and he hurriedly spat out a few more words. "Well, more like delve into an ancient stone ruin to fetch a stone tablet that may or may not even be there."

"Stone tablet?" Auriel raised an eyebrow. "What does a stone tablet have to do with dragons?"

"Ah," and pleasure entered the mage's voice. "No mere brute mercenary, but a thinker. Maybe even a scholar?"

"...I am a highly trained mage, despite appearances," she said shortly. "Do not use some, one syllable words as though I am a child. I was delving into ruins well before you were _born_."

She couldn't help being irritated; this errand wasn't her idea, and she wasn't inclined towards fulfilling it if she could get away with it. They could just assume she had died in the attempt, she didn't care. The faster her gave the explanation, the better, really.

"Well, when the rumors began circulating, I began to search for information about dragons. Where they had gone all those years ago, and where might they be coming from?" Farengar's tone was a bit more subdued, but no less prideful. As one mage to another, instead of one mage to an unknown. It was an improvement, and Auriel nodded slightly.

"And you need me to do... what, precisely?"

"I... caught wind of words that said there was a stone tablet in Bleak Falls Barrow. A 'Dragonstone' that is believed to contain the location of dragon burial sites. So, go to Bleak Falls Barrow, find this tablet, and bring it back to me. Simple, really."

Auriel blinked, and reached into her pouch, seeking a stone tablet.

"This?"

"Ah!" delight crossed Farengar's face as she handed it over. "The Dragonstone _was_ there! You already found it? How?"

"I was sent to retrieve something else and decided to keep exploring," she shrugged a little. "I found this on a draugr that decided I was too far in. Lit him on fire, took his stuff."

"...You are cut from a different cloth than the usual brutes the Jarl foists on me," he said approvingly, his gaze focused on the stone. "And now my job begins. Translations and things of the mind, which are sadly undervalued in Skyrim."

Auriel smirked a little in agreement. Nords were generally a brutish lot. And if that was everything, then she would take her leave. As she turned to go, Irileth came rushing in.

"Farengar!" The Dunmer said sharply. The mage looked up with an irritated scowl, and Auriel stifled a grimace of her own. What _now_? "Farengar, you need to come at once! A dragon has been spotted nearby!" And before Auriel could slip by her, Irileth had grabbed her sleeve. "_You_ should come too."

Auriel gritted her teeth, but that was her only overt sign of frustration. More delays she could not afford...

"A dragon! How exciting," Farengar exclaimed. "Where was it seen? What was it doing?"

"I'd take this a bit more seriously if I were you," Irileth scolded. "If a dragon attacks Whiterun, I don't know if we can stop it..."

Reluctantly Auriel followed the pair up to the second level of Dragonsreach, where the Jarl waited with a panting guardsman. A great map took up a portion of the room, and she had no doubt that when it was called for, this room could be made for war and strategy.

"So," the Jarl said without preamble. "Irileth tells me you came from the western watch tower?"

"Yes, my lord." the guardsman nodded, hands braced briefly on his knees as he worked to catch his breath.

"Tell him what you told me," Irileth instructed. "About the dragon."

The guardsman shuddered, and wiped his hand on the underside of his chin..

"We saw it coming from the south," he said. "It was fast. Faster than anything I've ever seen..."

"What did it do?" Balgruuf asked. "Is it attacking the watchtower?"

"No, my lord. It was just circling overhead when I left. I never ran so fast in my life... I was certain it was going to come after me."

Auriel cocked her head a little, a sinking feeling beginning to grow in her stomach. She didn't _want_ to get involved with dragons or this Hold any more than she already had. It was exhausting, and she _really_ wanted to reach her dead drop before the enchantment wore off. But she forced herself to portray a nervous excitement, locking away her personal thoughts behind a wall of glass. She had to keep up this facade for a bit longer, and if she was sent to kill a dragon, well, she'd go kill a dragon.

Somehow...

"Good work son, we'll take it from here," the Jarl nodded lightly. "Head down to the barracks for some food and rest. You've earned it. Irileth, you'd better gather some guardsmen and get down there."

"I've already ordered my men to muster at the main gate," the dark elf said proudly.

"Good work. Don't fail me."

Irileth bowed, and moved towards the stairs as Balgruuf turned to Auriel.

"There's no time to stand on ceremony my friend. I need your help again."

She suppressed a sigh, and bowed slightly. He didn't _know_ she wasn't simply a wandering adventurer, and she wasn't about to enlighten him now. Maybe if she finished this quickly, she would only lose a few hours instead of a full day.

"I will help however I can, Jarl Balgruuf."

"I want you to go with Irileth and help her fight this dragon. You survived Helgen, so you have more experience with dragons than anyone else here."

That wasn't a guarantee of survival, but she kept her mouth closed over the sharp comment. One did not talk back to leaders without strong backing, which she had none. Plus, a slightly awed, somewhat air-headed new adventurer might think it a grand opportunity. She couldn't quite muster that level of enthusiasm, but she did manage a shaky nod.

"But, I haven't forgotten the service you did for me in retrieving the Dragonstone for Farengar." She blinked, surprised, and he nodded slightly, a faint smile on his face. "Lucky happenstance it may have been, but you have earned this. As a token of my esteem, I have instructed Avenicci that you are allowed to purchase property in my city. And here. Take this as well, from my personal armory."

She accepted the gift reflexively, more surprised than anything else. She was not _used_ to gifts for things that she had done. Well, not outside of money, at least. Being able to purchase property in a Hold in Skyrim? That was... unexpected, to say the least.

She put the armor in her pouch, resolving to look it over later, and turned to head down the stairs, ignoring the conversation that took place at her back.

It was time, apparently, to kill a dragon.

"Julianos preserve me," she sighed. "I think I may well need it."

She was not inclined to wait for Irileth or her detachment of men. They would just have to catch up to her instead. Perhaps it was reckless, foolish, or whatever, but she wanted this done and over with, so she was quick to leave the city. Perhaps they would take it as a part of her 'foolish adventurer' persona, or something, and simply think her over-eager to get the chance to kill a real dragon.

The tower to the west grew distinct as she approached, and the shift of the wind carried the smell of ashes and death to her. She grimaced a little, and unhooked her bow, drawing forth an arrow. Dragons flew, therefore arrows and archers were likely the best way to kill such a beast.

Pieces of the tower lay scattered about the cleared ground like blocks. Some where lit on fire, and burned away despite the chill rain that continued to drip down from the sky. Auriel looked up, hissed as the rain splattered the golden skin of her face, and saw no shadow of a creature. Carefully she walked up to the tower, listening intently.

"No, get back," a lone guard protested, giving her a desperate look. "It's still here somewhere! Hroki and Tor just got grabbed as they tried to make a run for it!"

She shook her head a little, and moved to somehow reassure him, when she heard the eerie roar. The guard's head snapped around, wide-eyed in fear, and Auriel laid her arrow to the string.

"Kynareth save us, here he comes again," the guard moaned. "Why did you come alone?!"

"Irileth and a few others are not far behind," Auriel said shortly. "If you are going to be a coward, hide in the tower. Protect yourself, I care not."

The dragon flew over the tower and it's burning remains, the wind from his wings kicking the flames and smoke up a notch. Auriel lifted a scrap of her hood over her mouth and nose, though little could protect eyes stung by the smoke. She tracked him with her eyes, waiting for him to hold still long enough for her to get a good shot in.

Fortunately for her, the backup was, as she'd claimed, not far behind. The call of a horn echoed through the air and the dragon diverted to the platoon of guardsmen, allowing Auriel her chance to take shots at the dragon. She took care to not come too close, but was forced to dodge both fire and arrows that missed the target more than she liked. She wasn't really sure _who_ brought the thing down, but she was willing to swear it had _sad_ something as it died.

Cautiously, carefully she approached the body as Irileth congratulated her men. The dragon almost seemed to be... disintegrating at her approach. As Auriel spared a moment to wonder if the dragon was simply burning to dust, the flames became whirls of light that flared brightly, swirling around her. The power rushed through her and she gasped, drawing it in on reflex and instinct. It felt like magic, but at the same time it was something so much _more_.

The word she'd found in Bleak Falls Barrow sang in her mind's eye.

"**Fus!**"

Whatever the word meant, the force of it nearly knocked her backwards as the wind itself seemed to become solid and rush forward. She shivered a little, eyes wide at the newness of it as the guards surrounded her in awe.

"I can't believe it," one of them said. "You're... Dragonborn."

"...What?" she asked, blinking up at him in confusion. "What is that?"

"In the old days, back when there was still dragons all over Skyrim, the Dragonborn would slay them, and steal their power. That's what you did, right? Absorbed it's power?"

Auriel shook her head a little, trying to clear it.

"I did... something," she said uncertainly. "I... I don't know."

"Well, you can Shout now," he said encouragingly. "You couldn't before, right? That means you're Dragonborn!"

The guardsmen started babbling about Dragonborn, and stories; Auriel closed them out, turning the idea over in her head. Dragonborn... possessing dragon's blood? No, that was ridiculous. If she'd had it, then she ought to have been able to wear the Amulet of Kings all those centuries ago, and when she'd tried—for safekeeping at the time—it had simply fallen from around her neck.

"What do you think Irileth? You've been awfully quiet."

Auriel glanced at the Dunmer, who studied her suspiciously.

"Come on," another guard wheedled. "Do you believe in this Dragonborn business?"

"Hmph," Irileth snorted. "Some of you would be better off keeping quiet than flapping your gums about something you know nothing about. Here's a dead dragon, and that's something I definitely understand. Now we know we can kill them. But I don't _need_ some mythical Dragonborn. Someone who can take down a dragon is more than enough for me!"

Auriel blinked, and cocked her head a little. She was _almost_ certain that was both an insult to her, while at the same time being praise towards the guardsmen. After a minute she mentally shrugged and let it go; she wasn't here to win friends, after all. Outwardly, she pouted, portraying the newbie adventurer who wanted some fame. A few guardsmen chuckled.

"You wouldn't understand, Housecarl. You ain't a Nord."

The Altmer stifled a smile as Irileth scoffed.

"I've been all across Tamriel!" she said testily. "I've seen plenty of things just as outlandish as this. I'd advise you all to trust in the strength of your sword arms over ancient legends that may not even be true."

The guards murmured, shaking their head a little. Auriel shrugged a little, fingering her bow lightly, then mock-jumped as Irileth turned to her..

"I may not know about this Dragonborn business, but I'm glad you were with us. You'd better go back to Whiterun right away to inform the Jarl. I'll stay here with these men and we'll straighten things up a bit."

Auriel sighed a little, nodded, and turned to head back up the road towards Whiterun. It looked like she wouldn't be leaving for Ivarstead today, at least. It was already approaching sundown, and she wanted an early start. The night was her friend, to be certain, but she was not above relishing the chance to sleep in a warm bed as opposed to a cold camp.

She was just crossing the bridge when air and earth rumbled; surprised she caught her foot between the slats and tumbled down onto the wood. She hissed a little as the wood scraped over her elbows, undoubtedly leaving a mass of splinters behind.

_Doh vaa kiin!_

The voices were clear enough, and subconsciously she recognized the words. The shook her to her core. They screamed of a duty beyond herself, a tie to this northernmost land that she could claim if she wanted it. She did not.

Slowly she picked herself up, her dignity bruised more than anything else, and headed back into the city. As she approached Dragonsreach for what she _hoped_ was the final time, the rain began to peter out. She sighed a little, and ran a hand over her face wearily; this was going to be an interesting thing to report on, when she finally reached Ivarstead.

She climbed wearily to the dais, and Avenicci was the first to spot her.

"Good, you're finally here! The Jarl has been waiting for you." He paused, and then raised an eyebrow. "Though I dare say you could have used a chance to clean up first..."

She glared at the Imperial, and walked up the dais, bowing lightly to Balgruuf, the picture of a weary fighter. The faint trickle of blood from her skinned elbow certainly helped that image.

"What happened at the watchtower?" he demanded. "Was the dragon really there?"

"Yes, it was. And I'm sorry to say that you're down a couple of guardsmen," she said quietly. "It destroyed your tower, but in turn, we destroyed it."

"I _knew_ I could count in Irileth," he sighed a little. "But there must be more to it than that."

Auriel grimaced, and allowed him to see it. _She_ certainly didn't believe this Nordic nonsense... but it wasn't worth arguing about, and was simply easier to just admit to it.

"When the dragon... expired, it seemed to burst into flames at my approach," she admitted. "And it seems I have gained some sort of... power from it."

"So it's true," Balgruuf breathed. "The Greybeards really were summoning you."

"...The... what?" Auriel blinked. "Who?"

"Masters of the Way of the Voice. They live in seclusion, high up on the slopes of the Throat of the World."

"...and what do they want with me?" she asked warily.

"The Dragonborn is said to be uniquely gifted in the way of the voice. Able to focus your vital energy into a Thu'um. A Shout. If you really are Dragonborn, they can teach you how to use this gift."

It was tempting. Very tempting. Maybe if she had time after... But no, her work for her people came first.

"Didn't you hear the thundering sound as you returned to Whiterun?" another Nord asked, snagging her attention. "That was the voice of the Graybeards, summoning you to High Hrothgar. This hasn't happened in... centuries, at least. Not since Tiber Septim himself was summoned, when he was still Talos of Atmora."

"Hrongar, calm yourself," Avenicci broke in, sounding more than a little irritated. What does any of this Nord nonsense have to do with the lady? Capable as she may be, I don't see any signs of her being this... what, _Dragonborn?_"

"Nord nonsense?!" Hrongar turned to look at the Imperial, clearly offended. "Why you puffed up, ignorant...! These are our sacred traditions! They go back to the founding of the First Empire!"

"Hrongar, don't be so hard on Avenicci," Balgruuf said mildly.

"I meant no disrespect, of course," Avenicci added.

Auriel snorted ever so delicately. Of course the man had meant to be offensive. It was a foolish honestly, considering he was in Skyrim and surrounded by people who believed, but she had to give him credit for guts. It was also mildly entertaining, and she was willing to watch the farce, albeit briefly.

"It's just that... what do these Graybeards want with her?"

"That's the Graybeards business, not our," Balgruuf replied, then he glanced at Auriel, who shifted her weight slightly. "Whatever happened when you killed that dragon, it revealed something in you. The Graybeards heard it, and if they think you are Dragonborn, who are we to argue?" He shook his head a little. "You had better get up to High Hrothgar immediately. There's no refusing the summons of the Graybeards... it's a tremendous honor."

She kept her mouth closed on her opinion of that honor. She had no time, and no intention of visiting these Graybeards.

"I envy you, you know," he said wistfully "I made the journey once... to climb the seven thousand steps again... High Hrothgar is a very peaceful place. Very... disconnected from the troubles of the world. I wonder that they even notice what's going on down here. They haven't taken an interest before..." He shook his head lightly. "No matter. You should go to High Hrothgar. Learn what the Graybeards have to teach you."

She nodded a little, but when she moved to leave, he held up a hand. Obligingly she stopped, head cocked a little in curiosity.

"You've done a great service for me and my city, Dragonborn. By my right as Jarl, I name you Thane of Whiterun. It's the greatest honor that's within my power to grant. I assign you Lydia as a personal housecarl, and this weapon from my armory as your badge of office. I'll also inform my guards of your new title. Wouldn't want them to think you're part of the common rabble, now would we?" He offered her the axe from his belt, which she accepted in surprise. "We are _honored_ to have you as Thane of our city, Dragonborn."

Then he paused.

"What _is_ your name?"

Auriel couldn't help but smile. Then she bowed, and walked away.


	5. Four: Ivarstead-Plans Gone Awry

Four:

Ivarstead

Plans Gone Awry

She took a couple of days to rest up and resupply. Reluctantly she wrote off her camp near Darkwater Crossing, as much as she didn't really want to. After almost a week of being unattended, there was little doubt that most, if not all, of her things were likely gone. She was going to have to start from scratch on everything, from lockpicks to pouches of potions and on. The idea wasn't terribly pleasing.

Fortunately, the inn was well priced, and the stalls offered a variety of things, so when she was all ready to go, she didn't hesitate.

Lydia, her... housecarl, had said she was to guard her things, and her person, but Auriel had simply brushed her off. She didn't need, or want, help, and she was fairly sure that the Nord would be honor bound to try and kill her if the truth came out. Working for a Thalmor spy was unlikely to get her places, and while she appreciated that Balgruuf had been so generous, she did not really care to remain.

Though the idea that being Thane could make her more useful to her superiors did cross her mind. Though she still hoped they'd let her have a short time off before sending her back to work.

From the stables she purchased a horse; while not the best rider, she was not terrible, and it would make the journey that much swifter. She alternated between a steady trot and a ground-eating lope, though the idea was certainly not to kill the horse. And though she stuck to the main roads, as opposed to touring cross country, she didn't avoid _all_ the danger. Fortunately enough, she was more than capable of looking after herself.

There was something freeing about riding a horse, especially as the day was fair and almost warm, for Skyrim. The wind blew her hood back, as well as her hair and she had to admit that it felt freeing to be like this. Oh, there was the urgency to report in, but it was muted by the sheer relief of no longer being beholden to the people of Whiterun Hold. She _loathed_ being in another person's debt.

The road we cobbled, though admittedly not in the best of repair. And generally the signposts were well placed, directing her to Ivarstead. She would sell the mare once she reached the small town, presuming she was no longer necessary, and from there pick up her new orders.

She did her best to ignore the tiny voice at the back of her mind that asked why she had been abandoned.

The closer they came to Ivarstead, the steeper the path became. As well as less well-kept. It became less a road and more a beaten dirt trail at points. The view would have been amazing, save that the entire area was blanketed in a treacherous fog, making visibility difficult, and even Auriel's keen hearing was muffled.

The path became a switchback, rising even higher, and Auriel made sure to keep her horse to the far inside of the trail. The last thing she wanted to do was have the mare slip, and send them both tumbling down the side of what was clearly becoming a mountain. She got turned around twice, and forced to backtrack, but on a whole she made good time with the horse, the trip taking only a few hours instead of the day it might've taken her to walk.

It was a quaint little town, a river on one side, the mountain hovering overhead like a giant loomed over people. There was an inn, a mill, and several small farms, but where _she_ was going was the tomb. Shroud Hearth Barrow, rather. That was where her dead drop was meant to be.

She walked the mare a while to cool her down, then hitched her to a post near the inn. After rubbing her down and unsaddling the poor thing, she left her food and water, then turned towards the stone hump that was barely ten yards away. As promised, there was a relatively new jar on a stone table in the back that tingled with magic. She was quick to grab it and look inside.

There was a note there, but no money. Puzzled, she reached in and pulled it out. It had only three words.

_Terminate Auriel Talmanari._

She stared at the paper in shock, confused, and admittedly a little angered. She pulled out a thin stick of charcoal and wrote a single word.

_Why?_

Then she dropped the paper back into the jar and waited. She felt the faint sting of magic against her palm as the spell whisked the paper far away to one of the identical jars in the office of her employers, and tried to think rationally. It was hard to do that, however, when rationale was compromised by the sharp feeling of betrayal.

Rarely did she question orders, and her superiors had trained her to only ask for more information when nothing else presented itself. In this case, nothing was clear, and she _needed_ answers.

The sharper sting of a message return had her hand flash into the jar.

_It is to our regret that we must inform you of your own betrayal, Auriel Talmanari. You were warned against such rash actions, and yet you persisted in spreading word of our activities in Cyrodiil. As your knowledge could potentially destabilize the current peace with the remnants of the Empire, we have no choice but to terminate both your employment, and your life._

Reflex had her throwing the jar far from her; a good choice as what came through next was nothing short of an explosive rune, and she dove behind the table to shield herself from the blast. As the noise died, she sat there in shock, staring at nothing.

This was nonsense, of course. She had been loyal to the Isle, loyal to her people, and had performed her job _flawlessly_ for the past century. Which meant one of two things; someone had set her up, or her useful term had come to an end. The end result was simple. She had been abandoned by the Thalmor.

And now she would be hunted by them. She was a power in her own right, but unlike Cyrodiil, where she had built herself several hiding places, Skyrim was virtually unknown to her. She had no safe place to go to ground, and no powerful allies to protect her from Thalmor retaliation. Well, there was the Jarl of Whiterun, but she was fairly certain that he would have... _issues_ with her past. And staying in one spot was just _begging_ to get shot.

"...this is not good..."

She chewed on her lower lip as she exited the barrow, pacing back down to the inn. If she was a target, she was going to need to start building power bases _now_. She needed something strong first... she needed to hear the passel of rumors that the innkeeper might know. From there she could make a decision.

The inn was all but identical to the one in Riverwood, and Auriel settled herself in a corner, back to the wall, warily watching the world as her mind worked. She could rest here for the moment, as it would take time for the Thalmor to send messages to any others who would be in the area, but she would have to move sooner rather than later.

She brooded quietly over a mug of mead, tracing her finger around the lip as she considered her options. She could go south, back to Cyrodiil, but without her hood, the Thieves Guild would never recognize her as the Gray Fox. The Synod had made their disdain known for all High Elves after the war, so there was little recourse for safety there. She might be able to shelter in the woods, with the Order of the Nine, but that would hold her only so long...

No, her best bet would be to try and carve out a place up here, as much as the idea irritated her. Skyrim was mostly open country. It took time for rumors to travel from place to place, and she didn't doubt that there were some settlements that had as little contact with the rest of Skyrim as possible. Of course, that would make it _harder_ for her to integrate, but she was nothing if not good at hiding the truth of her intentions. A spy no longer then...

It was odd; for the past two centuries she'd been involved in doing dirty work for the Thalmor. Spying, rumor-mongering, jailbreaking... even the odd assassination, though that was generally left to the Morag-Tang or the Dark Brotherhood—well, before the Brotherhood had been wiped out, at least. Contemplating her own freedom left her at something of a loss.

If not for the threat of being caught and killed by fellow Thalmor—people she would now have to kill herself if she wasn't careful—she might have been able to enjoy it.

Auriel closed her eyes and pushed other arbitrary thoughts away, focusing on what she would need at the moment so that she could start properly planing for her own survival. What options had she...?

Well, she could head back to Whiterun, for starters. If she was going to be staying in Skyrim, she needed a place to live. The Jarl had mentioned she could buy property in his hold, which likely meant a house, and she wasn't going to pass that up. Assuming she could afford it, of course; she was probably going to have to do some mercenary work of her own, or barter with the blacksmith for ores and gems to make jewelry.

A house in Whiterun would also provide a safe, permanent place for her, as opposed to living out of an inn and carrying everything in her pouches. She'd tried that back in Cyrodiil, after the Oblivion Crisis. It hadn't been terribly fun. Absently she realized all her Cyrodiil-side homes would be compromised anyways; the Thalmor knew about most of them, and likely had raided them all.

So, a base in Whiterun, under the protection of Jarl Balgruuf was a good place to start. But beyond that, what? She needed power, if not prestige, and a way to make herself untouchable to the Thalmor. She grimaced a little, and shook her head slightly; she would likely have to interfere with the war now, on the side of the Stormcloaks. Because Ulfric wanted the Thalmor _out_ of Skyrim, and she had to agree with that sentiment. It wouldn't prevent sleeper agents, but they would have to be stealthier to get at her.

But that was for later. She needed a power _base_ first, and getting involved in a war without one would make it all too easy for an accident of some sort to happen.

Idly she rolled a gold coin between her fingers, trying to recall what all she knew of this frozen land. There had been rumors of a straggling few members of the Dark Brotherhood, but she dismissed that out of hand; assassins were not good bedfellows, and it was entirely likely that they'd try and kill her if they were contracted to do so. A Thieves Guild might do, but only if it were strong; monetary backing was a good thing to have when hiding. The Synod in Cyrodiil had been a waste of effort, but maybe there was a Mages Guild here that would be of more use? There was also those... Companions, whoever they were. She would need to study up on them, but if they were as good as that irritating archer claimed, it might be worth the effort to join them.

She needed immediate power first, more than money or physical strength. If there _was_ a Mages Guild that would be the place to start.

_If_ there was a Mages Guild...

Well, there was one way to find out, and after a moment she left her spot and approached the innkeeper, a rather rotund man who gave her a curious look.

"Pardon, but I'm new to these parts, and was wondering where I might go to learn more about magic."

Auriel pitched her voice carefully to sound younger, a little more lost than she was, and altered her expression accordingly. No tears, because that was simply too dramatic; she was just a young, lost Altmer who was looking for some teaching.

The innkeeper snorted a little disdainfully.

"I've got no interest in magic users, nor use for em," he said irritably. "They're all up north in that college of theirs in Winterhold, and good riddance to them! I don't even like our Jarl havin a court wizard!"

Typical attitude for a Nord. Auriel shook her head a little and moved for the door.

"If you're goin out, avoid the barrow," he called after her "It's haunted!"

She just shook her head in resigned amusement and left the inn behind.

The journey back to Whiterun was mostly uneventful, outside of a few bandits that were quick to join the number of people she'd burned already. Her irritation meant that her fires were hotter than normal, and her horse—she'd decided to keep the mare, and call her Suri—shied a little away from the intense flames. With a sigh she patted the mare lightly on the shoulder and they continued on.

There were, of course, a number of things to do before she could buy the house. She didn't have enough money, so she did a bit of bandit hunting, and raided a couple of old forts to build up her funds. She was also subject to a sudden vampire attack just inside the gate, which left her vaguely annoyed and him quite dead.

It also brought her face to face with the silver-eyed Nord that had been with the annoying archer. He looked surprised to see her as well, but a little pleased too.

"You're still here," he said.

His voice was deep, almost growly, and she had no doubt that when he shouted a battle cry he could be quite fearsome. But underneath it she could hear the kindness. A sort of curiosity, and delight as well.

"...for the moment," she said cautiously, dusting vampire ashes off her hands. "As, I see, are you."

"I don't have a job at the moment," he admitted. "Someone has to stay back and mind Jorrvaskr while most of the others are away. Well, other than Kodlak and Tilma, of course."

"Hmm..." She kept her voice neutral, noncommittal and uninterested. Perhaps if she left it at that, he'd go away.

"You look strong," he said after a minute. "You should join the Companions."

"Oh, I'm certain your band will have great use for a mage," she said sharply. "Other than the one up in Dragonsreach, I've yet to meet a Nord who has _not_ treated my profession disdainfully. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go. I have some matters to attend to."

She turned on her heel, and started to move off, only to be stopped by a courier.

"I've been looking for you," he said. "I have a letter I'm supposed to deliver to your hands only. From the Jarl of Falkreath, no less. Moving up in the world, hmm?"

"Hmm," she agreed sourly. How in the name of Julianos had the Jarl of Falkreath heard of her?

"That it. Got to go."

The courier moved off and Auriel went up to the second tier of the city, to sit under the dead Gildergreen. The Kynareth priestess had asked her to help revive it once the subject had been broached, but she hadn't yet gone to Orphan Rock. She _hated_ hagravens. Peripherally she saw the large Nord following, and gave him a narrow-eyed stare until he took the steps up to the Companion's hall. Perhaps she was too paranoid for her own good, but she didn't have the spare patience to deal with him any.

Breaking the seal on the letter she scanned it quickly, then grimaced. Apparently she had not been covering her tracks as well as she ought, because he'd heard of her. But further perusal cooled her unease, and after a moment she nodded a little. A home on land in Falkreath would actually be _better_ than in the middle of a populated city. While she might be easier to track, she would be more difficult to actually _find_, especially considering that there was a lot of untouched land in every Hold.

Tucking the letter away she decided that going to visit this Jarl might actually be the wiser course of action, and was quick to take her leave from Whiterun. Oh, she would undoubtedly be back, but not just yet.

It rained all the way to Falkreath, and she muttered irritably as she dismounted from the cart and unhitched her horse. The Jarl's loghouse wasn't hard to find, nor was his favor difficult to understand.

"Bandits?" she raised an eyebrow.

The Jarl—Siddgeir was his name—shrugged eloquently.

"The cut they were giving me was good at first, but it's dried up. And since that makes them no longer useful, I would like them... removed. All of them."

"All right," she sighed. "I'll do it."

"Good. Remember, every last one of them!"

Back out into the rain, and cross-country she went this time, looking for a mine. She almost took an arrow to the chest instead, but her luck was with her and she flung herself out of the saddle in time to avoid what would have been a painful injury at best.

"So, you want to play it that way, hmm?" she murmured, eyes narrowing as she approached a fortified mine. "Let's see how well you shoot with smoke in your eyes."

She promptly lit the wood fortifications on fire. The panicked yelling was worth the effort, and while the three Orcs outside were rushing about with water, trying to put out the fire, she tracked and shot each one. Then she turned to the flames and laid ice over the top. Most of the wood collapsed as she entered the mine, and the sound quickly attracted the leader, who ran out past her in surprise. She proceeded to pick up the dagger he'd carelessly left on the table, creep up behind him, and quickly cut his throat.

Siddgeir was pleased to see her upon her return, though he made a face at her unkempt state.

"So?" he asked eagerly.

"Yes, they're dead," she sighed.

"Good. Teach them to stop paying me!" Siddgeir was quiet for a moment, then nodded as if to himself. "You know, I like you. I hereby grant you permission to purchase property in my Hold! Speak to my Steward, up there on the second floor for the details."

Auriel nodded a little, bowed briefly, and moved off. She was surprised to see that his steward was an Altmer woman, and not the Nordic male she'd expected, but it was a quick transaction. Not a house, but something better. _Land_.

Auriel quickly set out to see her new land, and was not disappointed. The view was lovely, and there was enough land to make a very large house indeed. She was no builder, no architect, but she didn't doubt that there would be some for hire. And since Riverwood was the nearest town, she went to inquire there as to whom she might hire to build her house.

Alvar sent her to Gerdur and Hod, the two who ran the sawmill, and they, in turn, pulled in a few others once Auriel proved she was quite serious about the endeavor. A small house was easy enough to build, but she didn't _want_ a small house. If it was going to be her home, her safety, she needed some very specific things. She needed an enchanter's workroom, an alchemy lab, and a library. The house itself was no small endeavor, and she didn't argue about being talked into a two-story home with an entryway. It would likely be very useful in the long run.

She gave them all she had on her in the way of money, plus a good number of things she'd picked up in her travels that could be exchanged for coin or goods, such as jewels and jewelry, ores and ingots. She was no slouch in the smithing department, but at the moment, she needed a house more than she needed the raw materials for things.

All told, the job sounded like it would take the better part of six months, and Gerdur promised to send word once everything was completed. Pleased by the prospect, Auriel thanked the Nords for their work on her behalf, and promised to send them more money as she acquired it. She still needed the home in Whiterun, however, as a temporary place to live, and that meant more bandit hunting. She also traded time to Adrianne, the owner of the forge in Whiterun. She aided the Imperial woman with repairs and the like, and used the surplus to buy the aptly-named Breezehome after almost three weeks of work.

She had not expected Lydia to move into the house as well, but after a day or so, decided it couldn't hurt. The house came with an alchemy workstation, and no few containers for her various collected items. It was not the house in Falkreath, which she hoped would be finished sooner, rather than later, but it was a good start.

A week after her purchase of the home, Auriel hired the carriage driver to take her up to Winterhold. It was time to make friends among fellow mages.


	6. Five: Winterhold and the Mages College

Five:

Winterhold and the Mages College

Auriel had known it could get cold in Skyrim. She didn't know _how_ cold until she made the journey north to Winterhold. It took five days by carriage and she was willing to bet it would have taken a week and a half had she tried to make the trek on foot. And it was _miserably_ cold.

The town itself was small, the only notable features being the longhouse, an inn, and a trading store. From what she'd learned of the Holds since her forced immigration, that wasn't the way of capitals. Which meant something had happened... A quick perusal of the town itself lent credit to that thought, as there were destroyed houses. They were not burned, so her initial thought of dragons was dismissed. Perhaps she could find out more from the people, but they were about as friendly as she was; she passed one pair arguing, and no one else save the guards were on the street.

She wrapped her fur cloak more tightly around herself as she moved through the tiny town; the College was at the far end, and the sooner she made it there, the warmer she could be. Hopefully.

As she moved up the stone bridge separating her from the College, she was stopped by another Altmer woman, dressed in mage robes. Briefly Auriel wondered why she wasn't freezing to death, before she sensed the slightest tingle of enchantments. Clearly the blonde was sensible, as well as powerful. That certainly boded well.

"Cross the bridge at your own peril," she said. "The way is dangerous and the gate shall not open. You will not gain entry."

Auriel raised an eyebrow; this one was clearly not a Thalmor agent, and thusly no one to fear. She glanced around the other woman, and studied the bridge curiously. It was, indeed, treacherous, but she had walked far more dangerous paths than a snow-covered, wall-less bridge before.

"Who are you, and why are you out here?" she asked after a minute.

"My name is Faralda, and I am here to assist those seeking the wisdom of the College," the blonde Altmer replied smoothly. "And if, in the process, my presence helps deter those who would seek to do us harm, so be it."

"Ah. A sensible precaution," Auriel nodded a little. "The Nords are not... overly fond of magic in any form, are they?"

"No, they are not. Now then, why are _you_ here?"

She cocked her head a little, considering the question; the obvious answer—she was here for protection—was not the wisest. And she had been given more than enough training over her years to qualify more as a teacher than as a student. Still...

"I would like to enter the College," she admitted. "One never stops learning, and this seems to be the only place in Skyrim that might help me with what I seek."

"And what would that be?"

"Unraveling the mysteries of the Aetherius," she said promptly.

It wasn't _quite_ a lie; magic for magic's sake had always fascinated her. And it was a far safer answer than anything else she could come up with.

"Ah, the immortal plain," Faralda nodded. "It is said to be the source of all magic. A worthy goal indeed. It seems the College does indeed have what you seek. Now, what can you provide the College?"

"I beg your pardon?" Auriel blinked.

"Not just _anyone_ is allowed inside. Those who wish to enter must show they have some skill with magic. A small... test, if you will."

Auriel raised her eyebrows.

"I am cloaked in items that I have enchanted my own self, and you're asking if _I_ can use magic?"

"Ah, but how can we know you cast those enchantments?" Faralda countered swiftly.

"...oh very well," Auriel sighed. "I'll take your test."

"Excellent. The Fear spell has saved the life of many an Illusion mage. If you could cast it here on the seal," and Faralda gestured at the stone eye carved on the floor, "that would prove your skill."

Auriel, not in the mood to waste magic, cast the spell at the lowest level. The seal promptly lit up in a verdant blue, and she huffed out a breath in the frost air.

"Satisfied?"

"Well done indeed," Faralda smiled. "I think you'll be a superb addition to the College. Welcome. Allow me to show you the way. Once you're inside, you'll want to speak to Mirabelle Ervine, our Master Wizard."

Auriel nodded, and fell into step behind her fellow mage. There were three stops along the bridge where Faralda cast a modified light spell that sent up a brilliantly blue beam of light for a few brief moments. It wasn't hard to figure out she was signaling the College to open it's large gates, and once there, Faralda left her at the gate and turned to go back to her post.

Auriel stepped into the College, and glanced around. It was a ringed campus, with a large tower at the far end that undoubtedly housed the library, and the quarters of whoever ran the college. It was also so far north that few, if any, Thalmor were likely to be in attendance. If it wasn't so damnably cold, she might even have liked to stay there herself. Not that she was simply another _student_, but still.

Mirabelle Ervine was a Breton with dark brown hair cut short and sharp eyes. She was also, unfortunately, talking to a Thalmor. Auriel froze, considered her options rapidly, and cast an illusion spell that would temporarily alter her appearance. Most notably, the attributes that made her stand out among her kin. She hoped it worked, as she had no mirror or polished silver in which to check her reflection. Hopefully he wouldn't take note of it.

"I believe I've made myself rather clear," Mirabelle said shortly as Auriel approached.

"Yes, of course," the Thalmor agent replied testily. "I'm simply trying to understand the reasoning behind the decision."

"You may be used to the Empire bowing to your every whim, but I'm afraid you'll find the Thalmor receive no such treatment here," was Mirabelle's crisp reply. "You are a _guest_ of the college, here at the pleasure of the Arch-Mage. I hope you appreciate the opportunity."

"Yes, of course," he said insincerely. "The Arch-Mage has my thanks."

"Very good. Then we're done here."

The Thalmor agent stood there a moment longer, then turned on his heel and stalked through the large doors behind him. Auriel hesitated a moment longer, then sighed quietly and finished her approach.

"Pardon me," she said quietly.

"Ah," Mirabelle looked up from her book and nodded in greeting. "Welcome to the College."

"...I assume you're the Master Wizard I was told to seek out?"

"Ah, another new student. I'm surprised at how many of you there are lately."

Auriel blinked. She was _not_ a student... but perhaps that would be a good enough cover. As long as she could avoid that Thalmor, she would be very happy indeed.

"Well, first you'll need these," And Mirabelle offered her a set of robes. "While you're not required to wear them, you may find them more suitable than your current attire. I'll give you a brief tour, and then show you where the classes are being held."

Auriel hugged the clothing to her chest reflexively, and nodded cautiously.

"The College of Winterhold has been a fixture in Skyrim for thousands of years," Mirabelle lectured. Clearly she was used to filling in prospective students on the history of the place. In this case, the information was quite welcome. "The prominent feature here is the Hall of the Elements, directly before you. It's the primary location for lectures, practice sessions and general meetings. The Arcanaeum is located above the hall, and the Arch-Mage's quarters are above that. While _technically_ in charge of the college, the Arch-Mage's responsibilities often keep him occupied. Thus, I run the day-to-day operations."

Auriel nodded, admittedly fascinated despite herself. This was very different from the way the Guild in Cyrodiil had been run, prior to it's disolvement, and rebirth as the Synod.

"Now, if you'll follow me, I'll show you to the living quarters."

Mirabelle started walking without waiting for a response, and Auriel was quick to catch up.

"Unfortunately," the Breton continued, "we've had to introduce more stringent entry procedures, due to some... problems with the local Nords. We don't anticipate any real violence, but it never hurts to be prepared."

"...no... no it doesn't," Auriel murmured.

It would have been nice to be prepared for that Thalmor, but perhaps her new quarters would include something she could look at to make sure she went unnoticed. Her hair and eyes were distinctive enough, and she had no doubt that her former employers had, by now, spread the word of her 'betrayal' and a description of her appearance. Her blue eyes in particular made her stand out, and those would had to be hidden entirely. Somehow.

"Our newest members are housed here, in the Hall of Attainment," Mirabelle said, breaking Auriel out of her introspection. "I'll ask that you please keep your voice down while inside, as others may be working on research or... delicate experiments."

The redhead nodded in understanding, and in they went. Mirabelle led her in and directly to the right, to an unoccupied room.

"You'll be sharing the space with your fellow apprentices, but you will have your own room. You'll meet the others shortly. This will be your room, please try and be considerate of others."

It was a small room with no door, something Auriel resolved to fix quickly. The stone walls had fur on them, providing mild insulation and there were a number of cupboards and a freestanding wardrobe. Alongside a small bed. There were a few small chairs and tables as well. A cozy space, if... not entirely flexible.

Auriel put the newly acquired clothing on the bed, and Mirabelle nodded.

"Now, let's go back to the Hall of the Elements, where most members gather for lectures and study sessions."

She nodded absently, and let the Breton woman precede her out of the room, before snatching up a goblet left on one of the tables and scrutinizing her face. She sighed a little in relief as amber eyes stared back at her, and a quick check of her hair revealed a very ordinary dark brownish gold. As long as he didn't try to dispel the illusion, she should be fine.

She set the goblet down and hurried to catch up to Mirabelle. Most of the walk back to the Hall of Elements was done in silence.

"Initially you'll be taking lessons from Tolfdir, one of our most esteemed wizards," Mirabelle said as she stopped in front of the doors. "He's likely already addressing the new apprentices, so go on in. If you have any problems, feel free to let one of the senior members know. Now if you'll excuse me, I must get back to work."

Auriel nodded, and headed inside. It was _somewhat _warmer in the Hall, but not by much, and she elected to keep her heavy cloak on, now very grateful that she'd picked it off that foolish bandit. She was going to need to line her gloves with fur, at this rate. Maybe add a heating enchantment to her cloak, or something...

The hall was occupied by the Thalmor agent, but other than an initial glance in her direction, he seemed entirely uninterested in her at all. Inwardly she breathed a sigh of relief, and moved around the hall's edge to where three other apprentices and an elderly mage stood. The three apprentices—a Nord, a Khajiit, and a Dunmer—looked at her warily.

"Welcome, welcome," the old man greeted her with a smile. "I'm Tolfdir, and we were just getting started! Please, feel free to stay and listen."

The friendliness surprised her enough that she smiled faintly at Tolfdir, nodding a little. He turned back to the rest, and nodded to each of them in turn.

"So, as I was saying the first thing to recognize about magic is that it is, by its very nature, volatile, and dangerous. Unless you can control it, it can, and _will_ destroy you."

Which was certainly true enough, if extremely simplified. Perhaps too simplistic for the three apprentices, who all were well into puberty.

"Sir, I think we all understand that fairly well," the Dunmer interrupted. "We wouldn't _be_ here if we couldn't control magic."

"Of course, my dear, of course," Tolfdir nodded slightly. "You all posses some inherent natural ability. That much is not being questioned. What I'm talking about is _true_ control, mastery of magic. It takes years, if not decades, of practice and study. And naturally some are more... capable than others."

"Then what are we waiting for?" the Khajiit demanded. "Let's get started!"

Auri snorted a little. They were all so eager. It was, in an odd way, a little adorable.

"Please, please!" Tolfdir held up a hand in mild protest. "This is exactly what I'm talking about! Eagerness must be tempered with caution, or else disaster is eminent."

"But we've only just arrived here!" the Nord protested. "You've no idea what any of us can do! Why not give us a chance to show you?"

Again she snorted a little. Tolfdir heard it this time, and turned to her.

"You've been quiet so far. What do _you_ think we should do?"

Auriel's tiny smile was wry.

"Patience is a virtue," she said simply. "Safety is paramount."

"Well, you're classmates seem to disagree with you," he chuckled a little.

"Oh, don't listen to her!" The khajiit said insistently. "We can do it!"

"All right, let's settle down. I suppose we can try something practical..." Tolfdir rubbed his chin lightly in thought. "In continuing our theme of safety, we'll start with Wards. Wards are protective spells used to block magic."

"Just magic?" the Nord asked.

"Unfortunately so."

Auriel snickered a little. Even though they only blocked magic, if you knew what you were doing, it was possible to modify Wards into something that could block kinetic force as a whole, which generally meant boulders and debris. But you had to know what you were _doing_, first.

"I'll teach you all a ward," the elder continued. "and then we'll see if you can successfully use them to black spells, all right?" He then turned to her again and motioned lightly. "Would you mind helping me with the demonstration? Are you familiar with wards?"

She grimaced a little.

"I am familiar, yes, but they are not my best skill."

"Well, now's the time to practice, yes?" he smiled encouragingly. "If you'll come stand over here, I'll move opposite you, and you try to block the spell with the ward."

Auriel nodded a little, moving to stand where he indicated. Wards were, unfortunately, part of the restorative school of magic, and they were far from her best skill. Still, she knew the spell, and nodded a little when she was ready. Tolfdir charged up a small fireball, and flung it at her.

The fire splattered against her shield, and she grimaced a little, at the draining sensation of the spell. She knew she was pouring a bit too much power into it, and was glad when Tolfdir nodded at her, pleased.

"Well done," he said. "Why don't you four pair off and practice for a bit? I'll watch and make sure no one falls over from exhaustion."

It seemed a sensible recommendation, and it was somewhat fun to cast a spell _without_ the intention to harm someone. It also gave Auriel the chance to learn the names of her fellow apprentices. The khajiit was J'zargo, and he had a large ego, as well as a sense of pride. The Dunmer was called Brelyna Maryon, and the Nord, Onmund. The each had a style of their own as well; J'zargo was powerful, and a good bit of bluff, he tried to make her flinch away from his attacks when it was her turn to shield. Onmund was straightforward, power more than anything else. Typical for a Nord, really. Brelyna seemed the most like her; trying to conserve power while still making a spell strong. It was... a little fun.

"Well, I think that's an excellent start!" Tolfdir said cheerfully, and they broke off the casting. "I'd like you all to continue this line of practice later. I think, however, we might be ready to begin exploring some of the various applications of magic throughout history."

"Are we going to the Arcanaeum?" Brelyna asked.

"No, my dear. The college has undertaken a fascinating excursion in the ruins of Saarthal, which is close by. I think it's an _excellent _learning opportunity. I suggest we rest up, and meet there after lunch to see what awaits us inside. That's it for now, thank you."

Reminded of food, Auriel wasn't slow in joining her fellow apprentices on their way to the inn for a meal. She didn't join their banter, but she did allow herself to be drawn out a little. She gave them the name of Auri Tam, because she had to give them something, and responding to a fake name with little warning was harder than a simplified version of her own.

The inn wasn't terribly friendly to the band of mages, but none of them much cared, and their coin was good, so the innkeeper fed them as they chattered away. Auri kept mostly to herself and her food, relishing the warmth of the fire in the middle of the inn. It reminded her of when she truly _was_ an apprentice, learning her first spells... though she had been surrounded by other Altmer then, and it had been more the competition J'zargo seemed to think it was. She also learned the name of the Thalmor agent; Ancano seemed to intrigue Brelyna, and Auriel just shook her head a little as she mooned over him briefly. Fortunately Onmund and J'zargo agreed with the Altmer, and threw bits of bread at Brelyna to hush her.

Eventually, bellies full and energy restored, they met up with Tolfdir and headed to the ruins of Saarthal.

It was a little over an hour's walk, but the wind had died down enough to make it somewhat pleasant, and Tolfdir was quite willing to point out various other things of interest on the way. Auriel had at least a dozen new places to look into whenever she had free time by the time they reached the ruin, and all four of them were practically buzzing with excitement.

"And here we all are," Tolfdir nodded lightly at the door they stood before. "Now mind, we're particularly interested in the prevalence of the magical seals placed on the tombs. They're unlike anything we've ever seen before! And don't hold back in your explorations. We're looking for anything at all that might be of interest. That's part of what makes this particular excavation so fascinating. We still don't know what all there is to be found."

Auriel snorted a little, and was close enough to catch what he said as he moved to unlock the door.

"And, if along the way my message about the dangers of magic should happen to sink in for a few students, that would be a happy coincidence."

"Let's go!" J'zargo said impatiently.

"All right, all right. Please stay close while we're inside. As I said, we still don't know what all may be found, and I would hate to see any of you get hurt."

They all crowded in after him, then strung out in a ragged line, with Auriel leading just behind the elderly mage. As Tolfdir lectured them on Saarthal's history, Auriel cast her magical senses outwards. Truthfully, there wasn't much in the ruin, and what she did sense was well-buried it seemed. So distracted was she that she almost ran into Tolfdir when he stopped and squeaked slightly in surprise.

"Are there any questions before we begin?"

The apprentices all shrugged and shook their heads.

"All right then. Now, let's see... Miss Tam, why don't you see if you can assist Arniel Gane? He's one of the scholars here helping to catalog everything we find in these ruins. I expect he'd appreciate some help locating any additional magical artifacts located here in the ruin. Any enchanted items will do, regardless of the enchantment on it. If you do find something, the class can study it."

Auriel nodded, and moved off to locate the scholar as Tolfdir turned to her classmates. She found the scholar not far from the entrance, leaned over a table tucked into a small alcove. Suppressing a faint shiver—the farther down she went, the more uneasy she felt—she tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention. He glanced up and over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow.

"Tolfdir sent me to help you," she said. "Is there anything I can do?"

"I've only looked through a portion of this section," he said. "You can look through the rooms north of here, I suppose. Just don't mess anything up. We don't want to damage anything."

She nodded, and started looking around curiously. Yes, she was underground, and yes she felt mildly uncomfortable, but... this was intriguing. She found three magic rings hidden under dust and dirt, and then hanging on the wall, an interesting looking amulet. The wall itself seemed to be carved with symbols, and she hesitated to touch it. If anything, it looked like it had once been a door...

Carefully, slowly, she lifted the amulet from the wall. Immediately behind her, a gate sprang up, with a loud crash of metal against stone. She cursed quietly in Aldmeri and looked about for a release of some sort.

"What in the world was that racket?" Tolfdir asked, hurrying up to the other side of the bars that now blocked her exit. "Are you all right?"

"I'm unharmed, just... trapped."

"How did that happen?"

"I pulled this amulet off the wall," Auriel replied, showing him the necklace. "It seems that was not the correct thing to do. I... am unable to find a release, however."

"Perhaps the amulet is the key," he offered after a moment. "Is there some way you can use it?"

"I already tried putting it back on the wall. Nothing happened..."

"Well, try putting it on yourself and see if that does anything," he suggested.

Reluctantly she tied the amulet around her neck. The wall the amulet had been attached to instantly began vibrating.

"Do you _see_ that?" Tolfdir breathed. "Some kind of resonance between you and the wall! It must be connected to the amulet! I wonder what effect might your spells have?"

"...I really don't think this is a good idea," Auriel murmured. "_Really_ don't."

"It's worth a try, at least, isn't it?" he asked encouragingly.

"All right... but if this goes badly, I get to say I told you so."

"Of course my dear, of course."

Auriel smiled a little; she rather liked this old man. She braced herself, then flung a handful of fire at the wall, which shattered as though it was made of brittle ceramic. Behind her, the gate descended back into the floor, and she breathed a relieved sigh.

"Would you look at that!" Tolfdir said, moving into the room with her. "This is highly unusual, and very interesting."

The dust settled, and Auriel's unease grew. Behind the wall was a tunnel, and Tolfdir was clearly inclined to head down it. On the one hand, he was a senior mage at the College. On the other, she had at least two centuries worth of experience on him, and she could hardly let him walk into a dangerous situation alone.

Mentally she cursed the sudden resurgence of her conscience, and followed quickly behind.

"Why in the world would this be sealed off?" he murmured as she caught up to him. "What _is_ this place?"

The tunnel lead to a small, circular room with three coffins. A dead end was Auriel's hope. Tolfdir stopped to look around, and she leaned lightly on a stone table in the center of the room. A tingle ran down her spine, and the room lit with an eerie glow that made her crouch defensively.

A man appeared, but there was no color to him. She couldn't tell race, but there was no doubting his magical ability.

"Hold, mage, and listen well," he said imperiously. "Know that you have set in motion a chain of events that cannot be stopped. Judgment has not been passed, as you had no way of knowing."

Her eyebrows went up in surprise, then down in annoyance. Judge her? As if she didn't have enough trials in her life, now some unknown mage was trying to pass judgment on something she had no control over?

It was tempting to light him on fire.

"Judgment _will_ be passed on you actions to come, however," he cautioned, "and on how you deal with the dangers ahead of you. This warning is passed to you because the Psijic order believes in you."

Now she _did_ start. The Psijic monks and their island of Areteum had vanished during her tenure with the Thalmor. She'd always thought to go someday, but since their disappearance, had allowed that dream to fade into the back of her mind.

"You mage, and you alone, have the potential to prevent disaster. Take great care, and know that the Order is watching."

She opened her mouth to ask questions, press for information, when he faded out as quickly as he'd appeared, and the light in the room dimmed sharply. She winced and rubbed at her eyes as they watered fiercely.

"I... I swear I felt something rather strange just then," Tolfdir said. "What just happened? Are you all right?"  
"I'm... fine. Give me a moment to clear my sight..."

"Of course, of course..."

She rubbed at her eyes for a few minutes, then felt the warmth of a healing spell flow over her. There wasn't much the spell itself could do, however, and it still took her a few minutes before she was able to see properly again.

"All right... so..."

"So?"

"Some sort of... apparition appeared. And spoke to me," Auriel admitted. "He said something about being from the Psijic Order. And also warned that there was danger ahead."

Tolfdir's eyebrows shot up towards his hairline in surprise.

"Are you quite sure about that? That's very odd. And what about danger ahead? That doesn't make any sense at all."

"That's putting it mildly, but yes, I am certain that is what was said," Auriel sighed.

"The Psijics' have no connection to these ruins," he mused. "And no one's seen their order in a _long_ time."

"I am aware. I don't like this..."

"Perhaps we should take a look inside these coffins?" he suggested after a moment. "Please be careful; who knows what we might find."

"Besides draugr?" Auri quipped.

As if in response to her words, the three coffins popped open, and two draugr entered the room. There was not a great deal of space for dodging, but they were paper-dry and went up easily enough. Tolfdir dusted himself off with a slight nod, and moved through the opening created by the middle coffin's lid falling inward. Auriel grimaced and followed.

The short tunnel led to a larger room, also filled with draugr that were easy to light on fire. The exit was blocked by a wright iron gate, and a set of bars.

"I've never seen anything like this in Nordic ruins before," Tolfdir exclaimed, moving in to inspect the coffins with the threat removed. "Why, just look at these coffins! This bears closer inspection. I think I'll stay a while and examine this. Why don't you go on ahead? See if you can't find whatever it was that your vision mentioned. Just... please be careful."

Auriel's unease was growing by the minute, but so was her curiosity. What _could_ be down in this old ruin? What was dangerous about it? After a few moments of hesitance, she nodded, and moved towards the chains that, when pulled, unblocked the door.

Saarthal itself was more along the lines of what she expected in a burial tomb. Lots of draugr, a bit of treasure here and there, and the lingering smell of dead air. But as she went deeper, the uneasy feeling grew stronger. There was something buried here, buried for a _reason_, and she shouldn't have come.

Finally, Tolfdir did catch up with her, but that just made her even more uncertain, not less. This whole place was giving her a sense of wrongness now, far beyond her usual claustrophobia. An accredited mage or not, having him there didn't do much to improve her mood.

Nor did they have that much farther to go. Another door and set of stairs down, and Auriel was forced to lock her knees to keep from falling over at the sheer force of magic in the large room. The source, she presumed, was a floating orb beyond a fiery green wall of what she did not doubt was purest magic. A shield of some sort, for whatever the orb was.

"Would you look at _that_," Tolfdir murmured, awe in his voice as he moved around her. "I never imagined we'd find something like this, did you?"

Mutely she shook her head, awed and afraid all at once.

"Why is this buried so far under Saarthal?"

"...likely so that it would not be found," she murmured. She kept the tremors out of her voice, but they crawled up her spine. "We should leave this, Tolfdir. It's... not safe. For any of us."

But the mage didn't heed her, instead moving down a set of log stairs to get a closer look. A draugr, missed by both mages, did not appreciate the intrusion, and attacked Tolfdir head on. His startled cry broke her of her unnerved paralysis, but nothing they did mundanely or magically seemed to harm the thing.

"Keep it busy while I try something!" Tolfdir shouted.

Auriel promptly launched a bolt of fire to cover him, drawing the attention of the undying thing onto herself. Not the wisest of moves, as it was a swift creature, and angry, but she had more practical ability in dodging, and was not weakened yet by age or cold.

She didn't know what Tolfdir was up to but she saw the results. Something around the draugr seemed to break, much like an over-extended ward spell, and within moments it was dead and ashes. She shuddered at the raw power the nearby floating orb seemed to give off, and uneasily approached the old man.

"I'm not the only one seeing this, am I?" he murmured, glancing at her. "This is utterly unique."

"It's utterly _dangerous_, Tolfdir," she said warningly. "Whatever it is..."

"This is amazing!" he enthused, clearly ignoring her words. "Utterly amazing! The Arch-Mage needs to be informed immediately! He _has_ to come see this for himself! I don't dare leave this unattended! Can you return to the College in my stead and inform Savos Aren? Quickly please."

"...I think this is a bad idea... but very well. I will."

She couldn't get out of Saarthal fast enough.


	7. Six: Book hunting

Six:

Book hunting

She almost ran past a new word wall in her haste; she'd run across several of them in her weeks of running errands and killing bandits for coin. She had a number or new words, but had been fortunate—or unfortunate—enough to avoid being attacked by dragons, so had acquired no new Thu'ums. She wasn't sure whether to be disappointed or pleased by this prospect, and after getting the new word, hightailed it out and back to the College.

The Arch-Mage's quarters were through the door on the left inside the Hall of Elements, and there were more than a few flights of stairs to be climbed. She had to stop at the top, briefly, to catch her breath before she looked around.

The room was high-ceilinged and well lit, with what looked to be an arboretum in the middle, and a curved wall the likely hid his sleeping area. On her left was an alchemy set up she would have cheerfully maimed to own, and to the right was an enchanter's table, complete with over a dozen soul gems of varying sizes.

She made a slight sound of envy, and made a mental note to send most of her recently acquired gems and gold back to Riverwood with a courier so that Gerdur and her lot would be able to continue building the house.

Savos Aren, when she saw him, was not what she'd expected. Admittedly, she'd half-thought she might actually see a Nord in that position, but Savos was a Dunmer, wearing thick, fur-lined robes that tingled with strong enchantments. She was impressed, and admittedly a little jealous. He looked far warmer than she felt.

"Excuse me sir?"

He looked up, and frowned at her thoughtfully, then marked his place in his book and gave her his full attention.

"You are relatively new here, are you not?" he asked. "I have noticed you, but we have not managed to speak as of yet."

"Ah... no. No we haven't."

"Then allow me to introduce myself."

Auriel stepped back slightly as he stood, and bit her tongue lightly to keep from protesting. This seemed to be some form of his and maybe if she let him finish, she could give him Tolfdir's message.

"I am Savos Aren, Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold. I am quite content to see any aspect of magic explored or investigate here. But I do not and _will_ not approve of anything that may purposefully cause harm to your fellow members of the College. Are we clear?"

Auriel looked at him. He was about three inches shorter than her, though he exuded an aura of power. One corner of her mouth twitched into a very slight smirk.

"If you're attempting to intimidate me into compliance, you're going to have to try harder," she said equably. "For the moment, I need to speak to you about Saarthal."

"Please don't tell me that another one of the apprentices has been incinerated," he sighed in exasperation. "I have enough to deal with right now."

She shook her head a little, stifling the giggle that threatened. Clearly Saarthal was a world of trouble. A pity she couldn't have convinced Tolfdir that this was a bad idea.

"No, nothing like that it's..." She nibbled a little on her lower lip, trying to decide how to explain the orb to him. "Well, we found something in Saarthal that Tolfdir thinks you should come take a look at."

"Very well," he nodded slightly. "I trust it's important if Tolfdir sent you. Thank you for bringing it to my attention. Since Tolfdir is occupied, and I will need to see this discovery for myself, I think _you_ should begin researching the subject."

"...this is for my backtalk, isn't it?"

"Perhaps," and the Dunmer cracked a slight smile at her rueful sigh. "Speak with Urag in the Arcanaeum. See if he has anything that matches this discovery of yours. And... good work. Perhaps the next time you explore Nordic ruins, this will come in handy."

He plucked a staff from the wall where it was leaning and handed it to her. She nodded, hefted it carefully, and quickly moved off downstairs. She didn't head to the library first however; she was physically and emotionally worn down; acting around so many people was draining, and the upkeep of the Illusion spell on her features was a small, steady drain on her power. Plus it was late, and more than time for some rest. She would get a fresh start in the morning.

One of the rugs from the wall made an excellent cover for the opening into her particular room, and after changing into something more suitable for sleeping, she quickly fell onto the bed, curling up into a small ball under the blankets. She didn't expect Ancano would bother himself with apprentices, so she let the Illusion spell fade, and braided her hair up over her shoulder. It might have been warmer loose, but long hair was not the easiest thing to sleep with, and she much preferred it out of the way, as opposed to smothering her. Once done, she was quick to subside into sleep.

It was an uneasy sleep, with dreams of dragon words chasing themselves around in her head. The catalyst was killing dragons, that much was clear, but the words themselves almost seemed to have a life of their own. They _wanted_ to be used. Auriel woke with the rather unhappy thought that if she didn't find dragons, they would undoubtedly find her. She pushed the idea away, grabbed some food from the second-story small kitchen, recast her Illusion spell, and went to start her research.

The Arcanaeum—otherwise known as the most impressive library in Skyrim—was everything she could have ever dreamed it would be. Where there weren't bookshelves, there were small tables, window ledges, and cushions, with books set neatly near, on, or around them. At the far end was the desk of the librarian. To her surprise, it was an Orc. An old Orc at that. Orsimer generally felt much akin to Nords when it came to magic; it was weak, cowardly, and not something a true warrior ever used.

She buried the shock and approached him cautiously. He looked up and frowned at her.

"You are now in the Arcanaeum, of which I am in charge," he said shortly. "It might as well be my own little plane of Oblivion. Disrupt my Arcanaeum, and I will have to torn apart by angry Antranochs."

She blinked a little, then nodded lightly. It was hard to fight back the amused smile, but it was nice to see that he took this job very seriously.

"Now, do you require assistance?"

"Ah... yes, actually. There's... something we found in Saarthal that the Arch-Mage wants me to investigate."

"I know what you want," he frowned. "Word travels fast around here. Some big mystery, hmm? Well, you don't even need to ask. No, I don't have anything for you. Not anymore, at least."

"Not anymore?" Auriel's eyebrows raised. "Why not?"

"Orthorn stole a whole bunch of books when he ran off to Fellglow keep to join those Summoners," the Orsimer snorted. "Some kind of peace offering, I expect. I think one of the books may have had relevant information, but you'll have to talk to Orthorn for them."

"But... doesn't anyone _care_ that he stole books from the College?" she asked, confused.

"Not enough to bother with it. Arch-Mage Aren's approach to these things is to just let them sort themselves out. Of course, now it looks like you'll be doing the sorting. Good luck with that. Here, if you have a map, I can show you where the Keep is at."

She nodded, and pulled out her map. The Keep was in Whiterun Hold, which meant it would be a long trip on foot. She sighed, nodded her thanks, and turned to leave the library. She was lost in thought enough that she nearly collided with Ancano. Impatiently he grabbed her arm as she muttered an apology and tried to go around.

"I have questions for you," he said shortly. "You were in Saarthal, yes? It has come to my attention that something was found there..."

Auriel throttled down her initial response of panic, and ducked her head a little, trying to affect shyness instead of a complete refusal to look at him. Her features might have been disguised, but she wasn't about to take the chance of him seeing through her illusions.

"...Maybe..."

"I know full well that you have. Please do not insult my intelligence."Tolfdir is still there even now, isn't he? I shall expect a full report when he returns."

She frowned a little; the idea of Ancano or any other Thalmor getting their hands on that orb... no, she didn't like that idea at all. Hells, she didn't even like the idea of the mages _here_ getting their hands on it. It was simply too much power for these people.

"How... how do you know anything about this?" she asked.

"It is my _job_ to know these things," he said silkily. "My role as adviser to the Arch-Mage is aided by knowing _everything_ that transpires here. Thank you for you... help. You may go now."

Auriel breathed a mental sigh of relief, and went.

It took longer to get to Whiterun Hold on foot, and it wasn't a pleasant journey. She regretted leaving her horse for Gerdur to use to haul things; slogging through the snow wasn't fun, even if the path was decent most of the time. The view was nice, when the nights were clear and the skyfire's bright, but it was cold, and she found that she was actually somewhat lonely.

She made a stop in Whiterun, mostly to replace some of her worn gear, and sell a few things that were more specialty items than useful. She saw the silver-eyed Nord again, near the dead Gildergreen, and paused briefly. Then shrugged a little and approached; with no Ancano to worry about, she had let her Illusion spell lapse, and it felt comfortable to be in her own skin and colors again.

He glanced up, and she paused briefly.

"I wanted to... apologize for our last meeting," she said carefully. "I have been under an undue amount of stress, and I was not inclined towards being terribly... polite."

"Ah, that's all right," he smiled a little, and she was surprised to see that it was more shy than proud. "But you do look like you'd be a strong fighter for the Companions, magic or not. Kodlak's always saying that it doesn't hurt to be prepared for anything."

"Kodlak?"

"He's the Harbinger."

"So, he's your leader?" she asked, curious enough to sit on the bench. Not close enough to touch, but close enough to talk.

"No. We don't have a leader. I don't really get how it is, but we all do our thing, and bring in honor and glory for the Companions."

"Hmmmm," Auriel cocked her head a little. "What's your name?"

"Huh?" he blinked, and she smiled just slightly. "Ah.. Farkas."

"Farkas..." she nodded a little as she stood. "I'm Auriel. My apologies, but I must be going. Perhaps I'll... see you again."

He looked disappointed to see her leaving, but nodded. She could feel his gaze following her as she walked away, and tipped her head slightly as she thought. He didn't seem terribly wary of her, and she was willing to bet that had she posed more questions, he would have answered them to the best of his abilities. She still had to consider the notion, but if she needed physical muscle, actual guards... perhaps the Companions would be a worthwhile cultivation.

She encountered her first dragon on her way to Fellglow Keep, and it was more luck than anything else that kept her from dying. Luck and exceedingly good aim, along with a powerful bow she'd ordered from Adrianne, and well-made arrows. The dragon, like the first, disintegrated into nothing more than power, but this time she was ready for it, and it didn't knock her down. She felt it circling the words, but when she made no active choice the power seemed to settle, folding up until she was ready to use it. She approved, slightly, and moved on towards the Keep.

The outside of the Keep was only lightly guarded. Two mages and a Flame Antranoch were easy targets with her archery skill, and the cleanness—and safety—of the resulting deaths eased her somewhat. She would never like killing, but this lot had no such compunctions and she was not inclined to give her life for a few books that might be of some use. The main door was locked and blocked, but she found a secondary entrance, in through the dungeons. She grimaced and went in.

A combination of stealth, magic, and archery got her through the dungeons in mostly one piece, and she was, admittedly, less than pleased to discover why these particular mages had left. She held no love for vampires, but experimentation on living subjects—even evil ones—was just wrong. It had always been a belief of hers, and had likely been part of the reason the Thalmor had employed her to spy instead of be an overt agent. Even she had limits on how far she would shed her morality. Setting the vampires loose on the mages only seemed fair... and it cleared a few of them out for her, too.

Two wrongs did, occasionally, make a right. Or at least an easier path.

And in the bottom of the dungeon she found Orthorn, locked in a cell. She snorted a little at his pleas for release, but obliged; perhaps he'd learned his lesson about being too trusting.

"Oh you saved me!" he gushed, reaching out to grab her hands. She grimaced and pulled away. "Thank you so much! Who knows what they would have done to me! I promise, I'll help you get out of here!"

He tried to take her hands again, and she stepped back.

"Orthorn, I'm here for the books, not you," she said shortly, halting him in his tracks. "Where are the books?"

"Oh I... I thought you'd come for me... But.. yes, the books. The Caller will have them! She seemed very interested in one of the volumes! Although, not interested enough to keep me from being locked up."

Auriel rolled her eyes slightly, and made a faintly impatient sound.

"I can... I can show you the way," he offered.

"No. You should get yourself to safety."

"But..." Orthorn gave her a confused look. "Don't you need my help?"

"No. Get yourself back to the College. I will be fine. That direction is clear."

"I'll... I suppose I'll just be on my way then. Thank you for the help, and please, do be careful."

She stepped aside as he once more reached for her hands, and thwarted, he headed down the hall she'd come from. Auriel muttered irritably at his back, shook her head, and continued on. As if she needed help from someone like _that_. No, she would do just fine on her own.

It was not that easy, of course, but she managed to get through _mostly_ unscathed. A mistimed dodge at one point let to her twisting her ankle, a thing she grumbled a few choice curses about, as it limited further movement, but on the whole, mostly unscathed.

She wrapped it irritably, tested it, and kept going. The limp, with the wrapping as a brace, was minimal, and she would just have to get someone else to look at it back in Whiterun. Perhaps she could convince Farengar to do so...

The stairs all lead up now, and she went with greater care. Summons and Antranochs were more overt in their appearance, and while she was good, she didn't relish the idea of taking out such things without the proper care. Given that Flame Antranochs had this tendency to explode as they died, it was a good precaution to take.

The Caller, when Auriel finally reached the top of the Keep, was an irritated woman in blue robes that hid most of her face and features. Auriel thought she might be an Altmer like herself, but it was hard to be certain, and somewhat pointless to try and guess. She was, actually, somewhat proud of herself; it took skill and ability to make it through a keep full of mages with only minor injuries.

"So, you're the one who barged into _my_ home and laid waste to my projects," the Caller said acidly. "How _nice_ to meet you."

Auriel shrugged lightly, and leaned casually against the wall.

"If I'd knocked on the door and said 'pretty please' would you have given me what I want?" she replied mildly. "I hardly think so. The books from the college, now, if you don't mind."

"So you're just one of Aren's lackeys. That's disappointing. You show real promise."

"Do not patronize me," Auriel replied coolly. "I have at least a century's worth of skill. If you give me the books, I will leave you to it."

"You come here, kill my assistants, disrupt my _work..._ No, you've annoyed me, so I don't think I'll be giving you anything."

"...we can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way. I will not leave without those books."

"Are you threatening me? After I've been so hospitable?" The Caller feigned shock. "Well, in that case, you won't be leaving here at all."

Auriel smiled gently, and cast the Invisibility spell. The Caller never knew what hit her. Auriel left the iron dagger in her back, not wishing to get more blood on her things, and went to collect the three books. Curiosity had her flipping through all of them, but two of the three were useless. The Last King of the Ayleids was mostly historical with a bit of conjecture that seemed somewhat useless. On Artaeum was mostly about the Psijic order and their island.

The third book, however, was different. The Night of Tears spoke of the sacking of Saarthal by the early elves, and lay a path of conjecture and supposition that suggested the sacking was less about territory and more about power. She shuddered a little, recalling the power that floating orb had given off, and hoped that the Arch-Mage had decided to leave it buried. There was something _wrong_ about that orb. Whatever it was, it was simply _too_ powerful to be held safely on this plane of existence.

With the three missing books now in her possession, Auriel made her way out of Fellglow and back to Whiterun. From Whiterun, injuries tended and unnecessary items sold, she made her way north again to Winterhold and the College.


	8. Seven: Psijic and Augur

Seven:

Psijic and Augur

The minute she set foot onto the campus of the College, she knew. There was no mistaking the way the power surged through the air, and she mentally listed off a few vitriolic curses at the level of pride they must have taken in getting it out of Saarthal. She stepped warily into the Hall of Elements and gave voice—quietly-to one of those curses. The orb was floating peaceably in the center of the Hall.

If she'd thought for a moment that they might actually be able to handle whatever power was stored in that orb, she would have walked right back out and never come back. But she knew with an unhappy certainty that if she did that, all hells were likely to break loose, and she still hoped that she might grow close enough to the Arch-Mage as to be able to use him as something of a shield between herself and the Thalmor that might eventually track her here.

Though she didn't give Ancano much credit; she still had him nicely fooled.

She veered left, and made her way into the library, finding Urag almost in the same place she'd left him. Absently she wondered if he ever moved from that spot.

"I found the books," she said, pulling them out of her pouch. "One, two, and three."

"Well well!" his eyebrows went up as he briefly looked her over. "And you seem to be in one piece! Thank you. I'll look these over and inform Mirabelle if I find anything relevant." He thumbed through a few pages, nodding a little. "Night of Tears, eh? I remember this one. It has some interesting implications. Did you read it?"

She nodded.

"Might want to mention it to Tolfdir. And... here." He lifted up a small stack of books and pushed them across the counter to her. "I suppose you've earned these."

She blinked and looked at the stack, then at the Orsimer.

"To keep?"

"To keep."

"...you have extra copies, don't you?"

He snorted a little.

"Well of course I do. But you did earn them. So take them and scat."

She smiled, and put the books away in her pouch. Undoubtedly she'd read most of them a long time ago, but it never hurt to have books to read. They passed many a long journey, whether old tale or new. Though she didn't want to, she turned and left the library to seek out Tolfdir.

He was, unfortunately, in the last place she wanted to be. Standing near the orb, examining it with a typical mages' fascination. Warily she moved around the edge of the room, and waited for him to notice her. It took him about ten minutes.

"Ah, Miss Tam, I had been wondering if we might see you again," he said warmly. "What can I do for you?"

"Urag wanted me to see you."

"Really? Doe she have some information at last about our wonderful discovery?"

Privately Auriel was less inclined to call it wonderful than the old man.

"I found a book called The Night of Tears," she said after a moments consideration. "How useful it will be, I'm not certain, but..."

"Isn't that the one about something buried beneath Saarthal, that man and mer fought over? I'll have to re-read it... I don't quite recall all the details."

"That's the main gist of it, yes," she nodded. "You should go refresh your memory."

"Shortly, I think. I can't seem to tear myself away from whatever this is," he admitted. "It's beauty is unlike anything I've ever seen before."

In a objective view, yes, she could understand how it might be lovely. Perhaps it was simply her finer tuned senses that made her overwhelmed by the orb, instead of in awe of it. It defied gravity, the blue markings on its surface fading in and out confused her. She tried to be open-minded about it, but all she could see from that orb was a power waiting to be used. And, knowing the Thalmor, she expected Ancano would make that attempt.

Tolfdir moved off, and she realized he was speaking, perhaps dictating to her, though she was not inclined to take notes. She remained firmly at the edge of the room, wishing she dared go farther, but unwilling to insult the old man by walking out in the middle of his lecture. Ancano entering the room just made that desire to escape even greater, but she felt almost a palpable relief when the Altmer interrupted.

"I'm afraid I must intrude. It is urgent I speak with Miss Tam immediately."

Auriel's relief quickly turned to concern. Had he found her out?

"This is most inappropriate!" Tolfdir protested. "We are engaged in serious research here!"

"Yes, I've no doubt of its gravity. This, however, is a matter that cannot wait."

Her stomach tightened, and she slid back a half-step. He wouldn't try to kill her _here_... would he? No, that would make no sense... Which meant something else had happened. But what? Tolfdir made an irritated sound, shaking his head.

"Well, I'm quite sure I've never been interrupted like this before," he huffed. "The _audacity_... I suppose we'll have to continue this at some later time, when we can _avoid_ interruptions."

He turned on his heel and stalked off as Ancano turned to her.

"I need you to come with me immediately. Let's go."

"Go where?" she demanded, dropping her meek act in favor of answers. "What's going on?"

"Hmph. Full of questions, aren't you. Well, I have some of my own. I'd like to know why there's someone claiming to be from the Psijic Order here at the College. More importantly, I'd like to know why he's asking for you specifically."

The Psijic Order... Auriel allowed her eyes to widen in surprise, knowing that if she kept her cool, she'd lose her facade as a young, untested student.

"We're going to have a little chat with him, and find out exactly what it is he wants," Ancano finished.

"...aren't you just an adviser here?" she said after a moment.

"Technically that is true, but I still report to the Aldmeri Dominion, and I cannot ignore this situation."

Which meant he'd probably already reported on it. She cursed mentally and affected a look of one hopelessly out of her depth.

"Oh, don't worry," he snorted a little contemptuously. "You can return to your petty squabbles and meaningless research as soon as this matter is finished. Now come along."

He turned sharply on his heel, and she had no choice but to follow. Part of her was hopeful that this person really _was_ from the Order; maybe he could give her some answers. On the other hand, his appearance had drawn sharp scrutiny down onto her from Ancano, and she would have to tread twice as careful to keep from arousing further suspicions.

"Now, you are going to speak to this... Monk... and find out why he is here. And then he will be removed from College grounds."

She nodded absently, and followed Ancano up the stairs to the Arch-Mage's quarters, where Savos Aren, and the Psijic monk awaited. She moved past Ancano, and felt the relief get stronger; she recognized the robes from her first vision, and the subtle sense of power. It shifted suddenly, coloring the world with a very bright light that made her wince and bring up a hand to defend herself.

"Please, do not be alarmed," the monk said. "I am Quaranir, and I must ask you to listen."

Slowly, as her eyes adjusted to the light, she lowered her hands.

"It is good to meet you in person, Miss Talmanari."

Auriel's eyes widened and she glanced over her shoulder quickly. To her surprise, both Savos Aren and Ancano seemed to be frozen. Her panic subsided a little into curiosity.

"What's going on? What happened to them?"

"I simply wish to talk to you," he said. "I've given us a chance to speak privately, but I'm afraid I can't keep this up for very long. The situation here are your College is of dire importance, and attempts to contact you, as we have previously, have failed. I believe the reason is the source of our concern. This object... the Eye of Magnus, as your people have taken to calling it."

She snorted a little. A grandiose name for something with that much power to it.

"The energy within it has prevented us from reaching you with the visions you have already seen," he continued. "The longer it remains here, the more dangerous it becomes. So I have come here, personally, to tell you it must be dealt with."

Auriel snorted a little, and propped her hands on her hips.

"Try telling me something I _don't_ know, for a change," she huffed. "Like, say, what this has to do with me!"

"You set this chain of events in motion at Saarthal," Quaranir replied.

"Not by choice!" Auriel retorted. "I wanted nothing more than to _leave_, thank you. Why can't you lot handle it?"

"You have to understand, the Psijic order does not typically... intervene in these sort of events. My presence here will be seen as an affront to some of those in the Order. As soon as we have finished, I will be leaving your College. I am already aware that my arrival here has aroused no small suspicion, especially in Ancano, your Thalmor associate."

She grimaced a little. Granted, she had expected Ancano to grow suspicious of her at some point, but this wasn't quite how she'd imagined it would come about. A misstep in her spelling maybe, or allowing herself to act on knowing more than she ought, as she was not immune to her own arrogant bent at times. But not like this.

"Nevertheless, my Order will not act directly. You must take it upon yourself to do so," he finished.

Auriel sighed, and made a few exasperated sounds to vent her feelings on the matter. Quaranir didn't seem particularly sympathetic, but neither did he interrupt. When she was done, she ran a hand over her face and sighed.

"All right, fine. What _is_ the problem?"

"As you may have learned, this object—the Eye—is immensely powerful."

She shivered, and nodded; there was no ignoring that.

"The world is not ready for it. If it remains here, it will be misused. Indeed, many in the Order believe it has already. Rather, something will happen _soon,_ something that cannot be avoided."

"And you expect me to... do what, precisely?"

"We believe your efforts should be directed at dealing with the aftermath, though we cannot predict what that will be. I fear I have already overstepped the bounds of my Order, but I will offer this: seek out the Augur of Dunlain, here at your College. His perception may be more coherent than ours."

"The... who?"

"He was once a student here at the college. Now he is... something different."

She frowned.

"You're not being terribly helpful," she pointed out.

"Perhaps you're not asking the correct questions," he replied.

"Hn. Where can I find him?"

"I... I admit, I am unsure. Somewhere in this College, at the least. It is likely that some of your colleagues will know his location." She frowned again, and his own expression shifted towards slightly sympathetic. "I am sorry I cannot provide you with further help, but this conversation takes a great deal of effort on my part. Now, I'm afraid I must leave you. We will continue to watch over you, and guide you as best we can."

For a moment he rested a hand on her shoulder; she stiffened, but looked into Quaranir's eyes.

"It is within you to succeed. Never forget that."

His hand dropped, and reality faded back in again, less abruptly than the first time. Auriel stepped back, a little disoriented anyways, and she caught sight of Savos shaking his head a little.

"I'm sorry," the Arch-Mage murmured. "Were you about to say something?"

"Well?" Ancano demanded at the same time. "What is the meaning of this?"

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't understand," Quaranir said politely.

"Don't play coy," Ancano said warningly. "You asked to see as specific member of the College. Here she is. Now what is it that you want?"

Auriel stifled a smile at the fabricated look of confusion in Quaranir's face. It was a little harder when Ancano's eyes narrowed in clear anger. Perhaps, if she was able, she would make it to Artaeum after all.

"There's been a misunderstanding," the Psijic monk replied. "Clearly I should not be here. I shall simply take my leave."

"What? What trickery is this?!" Ancano demanded. "You're not going anywhere until I find out what you're up to!"

"I am not 'up to' anything," was the calm reply. "I apologize if I have offended in any way."

"We will see about this..."

Auriel moved aside as Quaranir stepped forward, putting her closer to Savos Aren than Ancano. The Thalmor agent quickly followed the monk down the stairs, and Aren sighed a little. Auriel brought up a hand to hide her smile, entirely too pleased at the way Quaranir had baited the other Altmer.

"I'm not quite sure what just happened," Savos Aren murmured, glancing at her. "A monk from the Psijic Order, here, after all these years, and then he just... leaves. I hope we didn't offend him somehow..."

"No, I think we didn't," she said carefully. "I think he did whatever he was supposed to do, and saw no point to lingering."

"Hmmm. Perhaps you're right," he cocked his head a little at her as she hesitated. "Was there something else?"

"Mmmm..." She hesitated, then mentally shrugged. If he didn't know, maybe he could direct her to someone who did. "I don't suppose you know anything about the Augur of Dunlain, do you?"

"Has Tolfdir been telling stories again?" the Arch-Mage sighed. "I thought I made it quite clear that this was a subject inappropriate for discussions. Please, don't allow him to continue to discuss the subject."

Auriel nodded, and left Savos Aren to his work; she had to go hunt down Tolfdir.

She found him on the second floor of the Hall of Attainment, eating what she assumed was lunch. After a moment, she joined him, and decided that it could wait for a few more minutes.

"Is there something troubling you, Miss Tam?" he asked after a few moments had passed. "Normally most students are all afire with questions for their teachers, but you seem very quiet."

"Well, to be honest, I'm sure most of what you can teach has already been learned," she said wryly. "But... I suppose you could say that. I have a few things on my mind, really..."

"Well, we are always here to help. Talk to me, and let's see what I can do to help," he urged.

"...All right," she sighed a little. It was hard to not like this personable old man, really. And he seemed to genuinely care, which was hard to come by in her line of work. "What's... the Augur of Dunlain?"

"Well now... there's a name I haven't heard in some time," he mused. "My goodness, it's been _years_ since I've spoken to him. I suppose he's still down in the Midden, but I haven't checked. Are you going to see him? Do tell him 'hello' for me, won't you?"

"The Midden?"

"It's underneath the College, and admittedly not the nicest of places. You may be well-learned, but if you go down there, _do_ be careful. You'll find an entrance to it either in the Hall of Countenance, or near the Hall of the Elements, tucked away in a corner somewhere."

She nodded, and finished off her sweet roll.

"My thanks."

"Remember, do be careful. There have been accidents down there before, and you're a promising student. I would hate to see you turn up dead."

She smiled a little; couldn't help it.

"I'll be careful."

The Midden was, as he warned, unpleasant. Frostbite spiders, draugr, and Ice Wraiths were terribly unpleasant creatures to fight, especially in close quarters. But that was one of the nice things about being gifted in the Destruction school of magic. Fire and lightning could make quick work of her foes.

Admittedly, with a name like the Midden, she'd expected a garbage heap; what she found was something that could have been made somewhat liveable, mixed with what looked like a dungeon. It made her wonder why the College ignored it. It was useful underground space that could be insulated properly to test higher-level magical spells, at the very least.

After running across the Antranoch Forge, and that odd gauntlet that looked as thought it was a Daedric artifact, she was less curious about it. Obviously some others at the College had tried such things, and it hadn't turned out well for them.

Lanterns of magelight seemed to suggest the correct path, and they were easy enough to follow, as well as useful for seeing what lay ahead. She avoided a couple of nasty-looking falls, and a few enemies that way. When she finally reached the door that lead to the Augur, she found to her surprise, that it was locked.

A voice whispered through the air; she heard it less with her ears and more within her head.

_Your perseverance will only lead to disappointment._

Stubbornly she reached out and tried the door again.

_Still you persist? Very well, you may enter._

She felt the lock click open, and pushed carefully on the door. She didn't want to hit whoever might be standing behind.

There was no person. Instead, the Augur of Dunlain revealed himself to be a brilliant blue ball of pure magicka. Auriel let out a short breath of surprise, and shielded her eyes briefly. It wasn't as bad as what the Psijic monks had done to speak in secrecy, but it was _very_ bright.

Slowly she entered, as her eyes adjusted, and stared at the light,

"What _are_ you?" she murmured softly.

_I am that which you have been seeking_ he responded. _Your efforts are in vain. It has already begun. But those who have sent you have not told you what they seek. What _you_ seek._

"I was told to find you," she replied, shoving back he questions. "That's the gist of my knowledge at the moment."

_Indeed. And so you have come looking, though you do not know why. Like others before you, you blindly follow a path to your own destruction_.

"In other words, live my life," she said dryly.

_The Thalmor came seeking answers as well_ the Augur continued. _Unaware they will be his undoing. Your path now follows his, though you will arrive too late._

"Thanks ever so much for the vote of confidence," she sighed. "What do you mean, Ancano was down here?"

_He too sought my knowledge, through very different questions. You path differs from most. You are being guided; _pushed_ towards something. It is a good path, one untraveled by many. One that could save your College. I will tell you what you need to know to follow it further._

"And that would be?"

_You, and those aiding you, wish to know more about the Eye of Magnus. You wish to avoid the disaster of which you are not yet aware. To see through Magnus' Eye without being blinded, you require his staff. Events now spiral quickly towards their inevitable center. You must act with haste. Take this information to your Arch-Mage._

Auriel opened her mouth to ask more questions, when the Augur faded out of existence. She hesitated briefly, and sighed.

"Tolfdir says hello," she murmured to the empty air.

Then she turned and made her way back through the Midden to the surface.


	9. Eight: Dwemer ruins

Eight:

Dwemer ruins

"You'll have to repeat that, Miss Tam," the Arch-Mage said, a thoughtful frown on his face.

She sighed a little.

"We need to find the Staff of Magnus."

"Well, I would certainly love to have such a powerful staff," he admitted, "but I'm not certain that any of us _need_ it."

"It's not _for_ us," she retorted. "It's connected to that orb, the one that everyone's so utterly fascinated by."

"And how do you know of this?"

"I spoke with the Augur of Dunlain."

"Did you really?" Savos Aren's eyebrows went up. "And he specifically mentioned the Staff of Magnus?"

"Yes."

"I... I'm impressed with your initiative, Miss Tam. Of course, someone will need to follow up on this."

"And by someone, you mean me," she said dryly.

"I certainly do. Since you went to seek out the Augur for advice, I thought you'd be more... enthusiastic. Something as specific and ancient as the Staff of Magnus... I'm not sure we'd ever find something like that. But if memory serves, Mirabelle mentioned the staff somewhat recently. Why not see if she can tell you anything?"

She made a slight face; she didn't really want to be enthusiastic about something like this. She was tired, constantly cold, and very much wished she was on a ship to Alinor. But she was not, and she had to do this. Anyone else wouldn't understand.

"Of course, Arch-Mage..."

She turned to go, and he laid a hand on her shoulder briefly. Auriel startled, and turned back to face him in surprise.

"I'm quite pleased with your progress, you know," and Savos smiled faintly at her. "You've certainly proved that you're more than a mere apprentice. Well done."

She blinked, and cocked her head a little. From a pocket he pulled a silver circlet set with moonstones, which he handed to her.

"This circlet once proved invaluable to me. I hope it can be of use to you now."

Auriel blinked again, surprised, and Savos smirked just a little, then turned to study the Eye of Magnus once more. She had the distinct sensation that he had just flirted with her. But it was a useful circlet, clearly a high-level enchantment, and she wasn't one to look an energy boost in the mouth. So to speak.

Fortunately Mirabelle wasn't that far, though she didn't seem too pleased to be joined. Auriel mentally shrugged; she had to ask, and there really was no decent time to ask such odd questions.

"Do you know anything about the Staff of Magnus?"

"Well now that's an odd question," Mirabelle frowned at her. "Why in the world would you be asking?"

"The Arch-Mage said that you'd mentioned it to him recently," Auriel replied with a slight shrug. There was no point in making this bigger than it already was. In fact, the less people knew she talked to the Augur, the better, really.

"I see. Well, yes, I did mention it recently, though I'm not sure what he expects me to tell you." Mirabelle sighed slightly, and shook her head. "I only brought it to his attention because the Synod showed up here looking for it. They were apparently under the impression that we were keeping it in a closet somewhere."

Auriel grimaced slightly; ever since the Mages Guild in Cyrodiil had fractured into pieces, a new, very irritating group called the Synod had been the de facto face of the Cyrodiilic mages. They were an annoying group, believing in their grandiose nature, and she disliked them immensely.

"They're mostly politics, but very little actual magic," Mirabelle continued. "Trying to curry favor from the Emperor. I was surprised to find them on our doorstep. They seemed amiable enough, but their line of questioning made me... uneasy."

"Oh?"

"It became clear that they're trying to hoard powerful artifacts; trying to consolidate power."

"Hmm..." Interesting, if somewhat useless information. Auriel shook her head after a minute. "So, no one knows where the Staff is, then..."

"No one here does. The Synod seemed convinced that it's here in Skyrim. They inquired about the ruins of Mzulft, but that's all I remember," Mirabelle replied. "It sounded like they were heading there, though they were rather secretive about why. I suppose if you're seeking the staff, there's a chance they might be in Mzulft yet. Just.. don't expect them to be cooperative."

"Where _is_ Mzulft?"

"Here, let me see your map. You'll have to go to the Eastmarch, and it should be around here in the Valothi mountains. Take care. Dwemer ruins and mages don't generally go hand in hand, either."

Auriel nodded, and folded the map back up.

"My thanks."

"Just be careful."

"I'll try."

She considered walking the whole way back on foot, but decided that if time truly was of the essence, she could afford to buy another horse. And maybe Lydia would be of some use as well. So first, it was back to Whiterun she went, to get her housecarl. Then, a five hour cart ride brought them to Windhelm stables, where horses were purchased to help with the journey.

Auriel didn't speak much to Lydia; admittedly the only reason her housecarl was along was because while she knew of the dangers in Ayleid ruins, Dwemer ruins were completely unknown to her. And if Mirabelle's words were to be believed, mages and Dwemer ruins did not often get along.

Hence the extra protection.

Encountering a dragon outside the cit wasn't expected, but there were more than enough people—and a khajiit caravan—to bring the beast down. Like before, when she approached the beast became bones, and her body was flooded with power. Maybe if she killed enough she'd get used to the sensation. But as she still wasn't sure what the words could _do_, she hesitated to choose any. Again the power seemed to curl up inside of her, waiting patiently to be used.

It took the better part of two days to find Mzulft, and they were actually fairly enjoyable, for all Auriel felt the weight of the worries for the College pressing down on her. Lydia was fairly taciturn, but when spoken to, she could get fairly eloquent. She was also observant enough to tell Auriel a number of things about the Jarl's court, as well as a number of the policies that all Jarls conformed to.

It was a very enlightening trip.

Mzulft wasn't really a ruin as Auriel would have classified it. But then, she'd never considered the Ayleid places ruins either. They were only called such because of their age. It was stone and Dwemer metals, hardy stuff that would likely last another ten thousand years, at the least.

She met her first member of the Synod just inside the doors. He was, unfortunately, dying, and there was little they could do to save him.

"Crystal... gone," he gasped, then choked a little on his own blood. "Find... Paratus... in Oculory..."

He gave one last gurgling choke, and was gone. Auriel winced a little; When she didn't have a hand in it, death was a sad thing. She felt a little bit of sympathy for the dead Synod mage, even as she rifled through his pockets for something useful. The key to the locked door, for example.

She read the research log he had on himself, but was left unimpressed. They had been here so long, it seemed because they had gotten some crystal specifications wrong. She could almost feel sorry for them, but not quite.

After delving into the ruin herself, Lydia at her back, she changed her mind. She felt _very_ sorry for them. Beset on all sides by Dwemer creations that never tired or ran down, and a new, disturbing creature that Lydia told her was called a Falmer, well... she was more inclined to be sympathetic. They could all be defeated of course, but such fights came at a price; the metal skins of the Dwemer devices could not be pierced by her arrows, nor did they react much to flames. Lydia's sword did most of the damage to such beings. As for the Falmer, Auriel resolved to do some research on them once she was able to gather some breathing room. And the poisonous creatures known as chaurus, well, Auriel wanted nothing at all to do with them, other than to light them all on fire, forever. The only bright side—if there even was one—was that the Falmer and the Dwemer creations didn't seem to get along that well either. Small favors, and whatnot.

Naturally the Oculory was three floors in, beyond enemies, traps, and other delightfully annoying things. By the time she reached it, Auriel's mood was sharp enough to cut, and it didn't help that she was in pain that was both physical and mental. It hadn't been safe enough to sleep, so she was tired, and in that final push to reach the Oculory, Lydia had fallen under Falmer blades.

In short, she was a tired, injured, _very_ upset Altmer.

She rattled the locked Oculory door impatiently, wondering if she was going to have to try melting it. It wouldn't be _easy_, but it could be done. Fortunately for her badly frayed temper, someone spoke up from the other side.

"G... Gavros? Is that you? I'd almost given up hope! Let me get the door..."

The door swung outwards, nearly hitting the injured Altmer. The Synod mage startled to see her, then glared, and raised his hands, clearly ready to fight.

"Who're you? Where's Gavros?" he demanded.

Auriel ran a weary hand over her face and considered killing him quickly. She was _beyond_ not in the mood for this crap.

"You must be Paratus," she said shortly. "Your friend Gavros is dead."

"It was the Falmer, wasn't it? Curse them! They've ruined everything!" He sighed and scowled at her. "If Gavros is gone, there is no hope. He was supposed to return with the crystal. All our hopes... wasted."

Not to mention all their lives.

"And you... if you're here for treasure, wisdom, or anything like that, I'm afraid you've wasted your time."

"I found more than enough treasure," she snorted a little, then winced as her ribs protested the movement. "But before you descend into complete and utter depression, tell me about this crystal."

"It didn't work the first time. I tried to tell Gavros, but he wouldn't listen," Paratus ranted. "'No, it won't be too cold,' he said. Well I was right, wasn't I? Focused completely wrong by the time we got here. The cold had completely warped it! Gavros had to cart it all the way back to Cyrodiil. Left the rest of us here to fend of the damnable Falmer."

And she had seen how well that had gone. Paratus seemed to be the only one left alive of the group.

"This crystal?"

She had taken it from the Falmer mage that had killed Lydia. It had looked unique enough to sell, but if it was the one he needed, perhaps it could be useful to the both of them. Paratus gaped, and finally dropped from his spell-ready position.

"You found... how in the world?! That's it. That's it! I don't know who you are, but you may have just saved this little project!" He paused then, and gave her a wary, considering look. "In fact, who are you anyway?"

"Auri Tam. I'm with the College."

"You are, are you?" He huffed a little. "Savos Aren wouldn't even grant us an audience when we went to him, and now you're here expecting something from us? I don't much like this, I tell you, but you've saved my skin, so maybe I can overlook the past for now."

"...let me be clear on this. I am no happier about the situation than you are. I am exhausted, injured, and in a _very_ bad mood, so if you persist in your attempts to irritate me further, I will _keep_ this crystal. Are we clear?"

He stared at her in surprise, and after a moment, nodded.

"Well... come on. I'll explain on the way. Um... do you need healing?"

"...please."

He held out a hand towards her, filled with a golden light. Warmth, like a sun-touched blanket, spread through her as injured bone knit together, gashes and cuts sealed closed, and fatigue slid out of her system. As he lowered his hand she let out a sigh of relief and straightened somewhat. It couldn't do anything for the hard knot of guilt or grief, but at least her physical aches were handled.

"My thanks. Now, what is this project of yours?"

He turned and lead the way down the hall, puffing up his chest a little as he walked.

"No matter what Gavros said, this was my idea first. The Council is going to know that when I get back," he boasted. "I was the one who thought of using this... this Oculory. I don't know what the dwarves called it. Something unpronounceable, I'm sure. From all our research it seems they were intent on discerning the nature of the divine. This machine, all of it, was designed to collect starlight and then... I'm not sure. Split it, somehow?"

The machine in question towered over them, with the odd glass protrusion here and there. As the ascended up the ramp, Auriel let out a soft breath of awe, turning Paratus and his rambling out entirely. It was a fascinating device; what it might have been used for was anyone's guess. But it was, in its own way, beautiful.

"Here it is," Paratus said, pride in his voice. "Beautiful, isn't it? Took an incredible amount of work to get it running again. Now I'm hoping it'll all be worth it. Place the crystal in the central apparatus, and we can start the process for focusing it."

She mounted the crystal, and then spent twenty minutes fine turning it with touches of heat and cold to properly focus it. The ceiling rotated into position with several pushes of the proper button, and the light was reflected, focused, and projected onto the stone wall. Paratus' yelp of glee made her stifle a snort of amusement.

"Finally! All those years of research-" he stopped as she came down the ramp, moving closer to the projected map of the known world. "But... what's this? These results... they're not at all what they should be! This projection should be lit up like the night sky... Something is creating an incredible amount of interference. Something in Winterhold, it looks like."

Auriel kept her expression strictly neutral, though inwardly she grimaced. She could guess what might be messing with the projection... He turned to her, no longer happy, but angry.

"What're you playing at?" he demanded. "Is this some attempt to stall my work?!"

"Not that I'm aware of," Auriel shrugged a little.

"So what is it then, what have you done? Did you know what we were attempting and create some magical interference to hinder out work? Well? Explain yourself."

"...you tread dangerously close to the edges of my temper," she replied icily. "Firstly, calm down. Secondly, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You and you College have cost me years of my work, I've lost friends to the Falmer, and you want me to calm _down? _How did you do it?"

"See point two; I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Either you're lying to me or... you have something at your College, don't you? Something of great power. What is it?" Paratus demanded.

"None of you business," she retorted.

"So you do have _something,_ then. Well, that would have these readings make more sense..."

"Look, I'm trying to find the Staff of Magnus. Can this projection of yours help me or not?"

"Yes, the Staff... interesting..." He moved towards the projection, arms crossed. "I can't explain the details. That would be giving away too many secrets the Synod have learned over the years. Also, I doubt _you'd_ be able to-"

"Finish that, and I won't be responsible for the burns you get," she said, her tone dangerously pleasant.

He cleared his throat, and looked from her to the projection.

"Have you seen the Orrery in the Imperial City? It was the inspiration for this idea. Instead of projecting the sky, we project all of Tamriel, and then harness the latent energies to overlay the positions of..." He cut himself off, and she permitted the faintest hint of a sharp smile. "Whats important is that all of this work was designed to reveal to us sources of great magical power. Purely to help safeguard the Empire, of course."

She nodded slightly, allowing her expression to shift from irritated to curiously interested.

"And yet, in the end, only two locations have been revealed to us. One is your College. The other... well, that can only be Labyrinthian. So, mage from Winterhold! Despite your intentions, I've beaten your little game!" he said triumphantly. "Even if all you've said here is lies, I know you have something in Winterhold the Synod Council will be very interested in. So fine, trudge off to Labyrinthian to find your little Staff. I'll make my way back to Cyrodiil and give a full report to the Council!"

"...I think you've been in here by yourself a bit too long," Auriel said offhandedly. "You're slightly mad."

"Am I? Am I? I think I've discovered more here than I could have hoped to! Your trickery won't confuse me!"

Auriel smiled peaceably. And then pulled out the Dwarven dagger she'd picked up, and stabbed him in the heart.

"I did warn you," she said as he staggered, then fell. "I am not in the most hospitable of moods."

And the Synod hardly needed to beat down the College's doors for something that should hopefully be dealt with soon. Perhaps killing him was unnecessary... but she didn't like to leave enemies at her back.

As she walked down the hall towards the exit, the world faded out around her into shades of gray again. She stopped, and glanced around for the Psijic member in charge of the spell.

"You have done well," he said. "But trying times are ahead. It is imperative that you return to your College at once. You will be called on to take swift action; rise to the challenge and discover what you are truly capable of. You are on the right path, and you will prevail."

Before she could say anything in response, the world snapped back into place and he vanished. Auriel muttered irritably under her breath, and ran a tired hand over her face. If they wanted her back to damned fast, couldn't he have just teleported her there, or something? Nooo, now she was going to have to ride her new horse—she would name it Lydia, for her fallen housecarl—as fast as possible to get to the College.

"Jackasses," she muttered.


	10. Nine: Into Labyrinthian

Nine:

Into Labyrinthian

She could sense it even before she set foot on the bridge that lead to the College; the power was in the very air, and she shivered at the feel of it. She might have had the location of the Staff of Magnus, but it was clear enough that reporting on such a matter would have to wait.

Most of the students and staff were lingering in the snow-covered courtyard, some warily eying the doors to the Hall of Elements, others gathering in nervous bunches, wondering aloud at what was going on. Onmund tried to flag her down, but she brushed him off impatiently, and pushed into the Hall without much care for her own safety. She did not doubt that Ancano was behind this and if that was the case, the Arch-Mage and Mirabelle were going to need as much help as she could give.

A wall of blue light, similar, partially, to a Ward spell, blocked the entrance into the hall itself, and Savos Aren and Mirabelle stood before it. From what Auriel could see beyond the wall, Ancano was indeed within, doing... _something_ to the Eye of Magnus.

"I don't know," Mirabelle was saying as Auriel studied the magic. "It's like a ward, but who's casting it? Ancano? How?"

"I don't care what it is," Savor replied sharply. "I wanted it down, _now_! I want to know what he's doing in there!"

Mirabelle nodded, and launched ice spells at the barrier.

"What's going on?" Auriel asked, all pretense of being a student dropped in the face of the threat.

"We don't know," the Arch-Mage said tersely. "Ancano's in there doing... _something_. We're trying to get in. I will have his head for this, I assure you. Help us take this down, will you? We're throwing everything we can at it."

Auriel nodded, adding fire to Mirabelle's ice, and Savos Aren threw in lightning on top. It took several minutes of continuous casting, but the barrier faltered, then failed, and the three of them ran in. Ancano, when he came into view, almost seemed to be casting lightning into the orb, but at the same time... receiving something back. More power, perhaps, Auriel couldn't be certain. The very air was thick with magic, though, and she didn't much care for it.

"What's going on," Mirabelle demanded.

"Ancano, stop this at once!" Savos barked. "I command you!"

The Arch-Mage's hands crackled with lightning, and Auriel sensed that this was not a time to be out in the open. She moved to take cover, but wasn't fast enough. A burst of power flung her up against a wall, and she fell briefly into unconsciousness. When she woke, her ribs let her know immediately that she had better move carefully, or she might well puncture something necessary.

"Are you all right?" Mirabelle's voice had Auri lifting her head a little, red locks falling over her eyes. "Can you walk?"

"...not at the moment..."

"Have you something that can _help_ you walk?" Mirabelle asked insistently.

"Yes. A better question would be can I reach it without causing myself further injury," Auriel said shortly.

"Try."

Auriel grimaced in pain, but managed to pull out a potion from her pouch. Though it was not as effective as being healed, it made it so that she could sit upright without being in danger of more harm.

"Yes. I think I can walk now."

"Good. I need you on your feet. We're in trouble here," Mirabelle said.

"I'd noticed," the Altmer mage said irritably.

"Ancano is doing something with that thing, the Eye. We can't stop him," Mirabelle's voice was urgent. "I haven't seen Savos since the explosion. He might have been blown clear, and he may be injured. I need you to find the Arch-Mage, and I need you to do it quickly; get _moving_."

"And what about you?" Auriel retorted, shoving her hood back so that she could rebraid her hair. There was no point in the illusion now, and being knocked out had disrupted it anyways. Or maybe it had been that power from the Eye...

"I'll be fine, I just need a minute to catch my breath. Find Savos!" Mirabelle ordered.

Auriel frowned down at the Breton, and pulled out a potion, setting it near her. Then she ran to find the Arch-Mage. What she found, unfortunately, was his body. He had been thrown through the doors, which now stood gaping open, and had made friends with the mage statue beyond. His neck was snapped. Savor Aren was dead.

Auriel hissed a few choice curses, and bowed her head briefly with a new surge of grief. First Lydia, and now the Arch-Mage. She had hoped to get closer to the man than she did... become his friend, earn his trust and his protection from the Thalmor... she hadn't wanted to see him dead.

Tolfdir knelt next to her, resting a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you all right?" He asked. "What happened in there?"

"I'm fine," she said, brushing his concern off. "Ancano's doing something with the Eye."

"By the Nine," the old man breathed. "Is _he_ responsible for this? The Arch-Mage, dead?!"

"Yes."

"...There's more, I'm afraid. Something's happening in the town. Can you go out there and make sure everyone is safe? Where's Mirabelle?"

"Mirabelle's still in there. Hurt, but I left her a potion. It should get her out here before too long." Auriel got to her feet, and straightened her shoulders. "I'll go see what Ancano's disaster has done to the town."

She didn't wait for him to say anything else; her grief was turning, as it so often did, into anger, and anger would boost the power of her spells. As long as she remained in control, anyways. She practically ran across the bridges, heedless of ice and snow, and skidded to a halt near Faralda, and another mage who's name she didn't know.

"What's going on?" Faralda demanded. "What happened in there?"

"There's little time for an explanation. Winterhold is in danger. Move."

"...when this is over, you owe me an explanation," was the sour retort.

"If we're still alive, I'll give you one," Auriel snapped. "_Move_."

They moved.

The creatures looked almost like wisps. Just... nastier. With a harder hit to them. There were ten of the blue-white things, and they were undeniably hostile. There were no people out on the street, so there was no one to get caught in the crossfire, at least. And when they died, they left full soul gems of various sizes behind. Auriel pocketed a few, and wondered what Ancano had done to conjure up the little beasts.

"We'll stay here, in case more of them show up," Faralda said. "You should go back and let them know it's all clear out here."

Auriel nodded, and back across the bridge she went. Mirabelle and Tolfdir were both inside the Hall, the old man helping to support the Master Wizard.

"Well?" she demanded, upon spotting Auriel. "Is everything out there all right?"

"For the moment, yes. Winterhold is safe."

"I wish I could say the same for us," the Breton woman muttered. "Tolfdir and I can try and keep this contained. You need to get your hands on the Staff of Magnus. _Now_."

"Gladly. Problem. I have to go to Labyrinthian."

"What?" Mirabelle's eyes widened. "Are you... are you sure? The Staff is there?"

"...Yes," Auriel said warily. "Why?"

"That can't be a coincidence..."

"Mirabelle. Stop, back up, and tell me what you're talking about. Quickly, preferably, as we legitimately have little time for this."

"The Arch-Mage. He... He gave me something just a little while ago. He told me it was from Labyrinthian, and I would know what to do with it when the time came. I think... I think he meant this for you. I'm not sure why, but there was something very personal about this for him. Also, take this amulet. It belonged to him, but it would do you the most good now."

Auriel nodded, accepting the amulet, and heavy iron ring that Mirabelle passed to her. It looks almost like a door knocker, just... three times the usual size.

"Take it, and bring back that staff before Ancano brings the whole College down around us."

Again, Auriel nodded.

"It's here," Tolfdir said, handing her a small map. "Do be careful."

"I'll try."

And Auriel turned on her heel and hurried out. Her horse had run away from the attacking creatures, and she muttered a quiet curse about that as she made her way through the snowy landscape, hoping that maybe she'd turn up again at some point, but there was no time to go looking now. And naturally Winterhold was too small to have either a permanent carriage posting, or a stable from which she could buy a new one. She just had to hurry as quickly as she could on her own two legs, and hope that she was fast enough.

While she wanted to make the trip as swiftly as possible, she was also not immune to the needs of sleep and food. It took her two days to reach Dawnstar, and she was forced to hole up for a day at the inn to treat newly acquired injuries and the deep chill that had settled in, despite her best efforts at staying warm. She also bought supplies, and much heavier winter gear to wear under her armor, in hopes that she could make the much longer trip in safety.

Morthal was her next stop, and it took her almost a week to make it. It was moderately warmer, but still enshrouded in enough snow that walking was difficult, and losing the path was likely. Another day in the inn there to rest up was needed, and she spent most of it dead asleep, exhausted from the work of traveling through ice and snow, and fending off bandits and animals looking for food.

Labyrinthian was only a few hours walk, but it was not empty; snow trolls wondered the lower level, and she was forced to climb around the side to get in without actively engaging anything. She breathed a sigh of relief when she found the door, and moved to place the knocker where it was meant to go when a tingle ran up her spine. She turned slowly, not willing to admit that someone might have scared her, then blinked a few times in surprise.

There was six of them there, but they were almost like wraiths or ghosts. Or perhaps memories...

"Come on," one said, and she startled a little to realize it spoke with the voice of Savos Aren. "We're finally here! Let's not waste any more time!"

"Are we truly sure this is a good idea?" another apparition asked. She had the raspy voice of an Argonian, and her words made Auriel somewhat uneasy.

"We'll be back at the College before anyone even knows we're gone," another woman assured her.

"You _would_ care about that, since you're the Arch-Mage's favorite," a male sneered.

"Don't forget," Aren said, "this whole idea was Atmah's to begin with."

"Let's just get inside," a weary, clearly Nordic-accented voice suggested. "See what's in there."

That seemed to be the last word in that conversation, as after a few moments they all vanished. Auriel rubbed her forehead lightly, subconsciously adjusting the circlet Savos had given her, and wondered just what was going on.

She saw them again, just inside the door. Six College mages by the sound of them, and she wondered how long ago this had happened.

"I can;t believe we're doing this," one of the women said.

"Can you imagine the looks on their faces when we come back?" Savos' voice had a hint of gloating in it, and Auriel frowned.

"You keep talking like you're sure we'll find something _useful_ in here," the Nord retorted.

"Given the history of this place, it's more than likely there's still some amount of power here," said the crabby one.

"Enchanted weapons, times of ancient knowledge, Shalador's secrets themselves," Aren trailed off, but there was no mistaking the way his shade leaned eagerly towards the door. "Who _knows_ what we could find!"

"And what if... what if there are things guarding this place?" the Argonian said uncertainly.

"Against _six_ College-trained mages?" Atmah snorted a little. "I think we'll be fine."

Again they vanished, and Auriel shook her head a little; considering Savos had become the Arch-Mage, it sounded entirely like their overconfidence had gotten most of them killed. An idle through prodded her delicately; had Savos led them there for that reason? Was he leading her there for the same?

She considered it, then shrugged a little. If the Staff was here, she had no choice. She had to go in, and see for herself what was happening.

Cautiously, carefully, she made her way down through the dungeon. Skeletons were her first obstacle. Both humanoid and dragon. She considered her options carefully, then pulled out her bow and started picking them off one by one. If they drew too close, she cast invisibility until they moved away again; she knew better than to rush into such a trap, and she had never been fond of leaving enemies at her back. Especially undead ones. The skeletal dragon, unfortunately, gave her no soul, but its death was certainly worth the time and effort; she was really starting to dislike dragons...

She encountered the shades again on the far side of the room, but now they were down by one.

"We... we have to go back," the woman panted. "We can't leave Girduin!"

"We barely made it out alive, and you want to go back in?" the Nord demanded.

"What was that thing anyways?" The Argonian asked, turning towards Savos.

"It's too late," Atmah said, voice laced with regret. "There isn't enough left of him to go back in after."

"Gods..." the Argonian murmured, bowing her head. "What have we done?"

"We can't go back," Savos said. "Might as well go forward. We can still do this."

"Savos is right," Atmah nodded a little. "We can make it if we just stay alert."

Auriel shook her head as they vanished again; going back would have been saner, and probably safer than courting new, unknown dangers which lay ahead. Savos' eagerness to go forward left her uneasy. What had he been leading them towards?

She sighed a little, and pushed on. Undoubtedly she would find out for herself, if she survived. Perhaps she should have brought some of her fellow mages with her, the way they had.

As she entered the room, a voice wrapped around her, echoing harshly in her ears as it stole her power. She shuddered and dropped briefly to her knees.

_Wo meyz wah dii vul junaar?_

It wasn't a language she recognized, and the voice seemed to come from all around. She knelt on the stone until her energy returned, and she saw her next blockade; a door covered in ice. If she'd been more ready, she would have scoffed at the door. But she hadn't expected something to just... reach into her and pull out her magic, without warning. Hadn't even been aware that such a thing was _possible_.

"...Where are you leading me, Savos?" she murmured, slowly getting back to her feet. "And why do I feel as though you have done this many times before?"

Once defrosted, she stepped beyond the door, and this time the power stealing didn't knock her down; it just staggered her and forced her to catch herself on the wall.

_Nivahriin muz fent siiv niz ooz het._

Idly she wondered what it was saying, and forced her hands to stop trembling, as she worked her bow loose. If her power was forfeit, she was going to have to go at things a different way. Archery made short work of the draugr, and halfway down into the chasm, came words she finally understood.

_You do not answer... Must I use this _guttural_ language of yours?_

Auriel hesitated, then decided that silence was undoubtedly the safest answer. Especially considering the power drain came _with_ the damnable voice. She found herself wondering if the voice had addressed the mages as well, or if she was just extremely unlucky.

_Have you returned, Aren? My old friend?_

As if it wasn't unnerving enough. She almost preferred the panicked shades of the dead to that voice. No, she _vastly_ preferred it. At least the shades were only reliving something they had gone through, instead of stealing her power.

_Do you seek to finish that which you could not?_

Auriel bit her tongue lightly, to keep from saying anything unduly. What had Savos Aren began that he couldn't finish... and, more importantly, _why_?

She continued further down, following the path. A troll in her way was hardly an issues, though it certainly was an annoyance. She'd been trying to save up her power for fighting this... _voice_, and wasting flames on the creature was just plain irritating.

_You... You are not Aren, are you? Has he sent you in his place?_

She hissed a little, and finally spoke, though her voice was soft.

"Savos Aren is _dead_," she murmured, hoping there would be no answer. "And yes, I am here in his stead."

Silence was her response, and she breathed out a weary sigh. Silently she prayed to Julianos that she might survive this encounter, and continued past the skeletons that mired her path.

_Did he warn you that your own power would be your undoing? That it would only serve to strengthen me?_

"...no, I figured that part out on my own," she snapped, tired now of keeping her silence. "It's not that difficult to discern."

_Come._ The voice invited. _Face your end._

The air grew thicker as she moved in, slipping silently past wisps that could have spelled a sever sort of pain had they noticed her; she had no desire to clash with a Wispmother any time soon, and knew that if she wasted her magic, soon she'd be at the mercy of whatever was down at the bottom, waiting for her to arrive.

Another door, blocked by fire, was easily dismissed by ice. And beyond, she encountered the shades again. They were down to four now, and she grimaced sympathetically.

"Just another minute, please," the Argonian said, hands on her knees.

"Come on," Savos' reply was impatient. "We can't stop now, we have to keep moving!"

"Where's Elvali?" Atmah asked. "She was right behind me."

"Dead," the Nord said between his own gasps for breath. Grief laced his voice. "Something grabbed her from behind. Gone before I could do _anything._.."

"This is insanity!" the Argonian said. "We never should've come here!"

"..you're right," Atmah said quietly. "This is all my fault. Should we turn around, head back?"

"I don't think going back is a good idea," the Nord shook his head a little.

"Going back would be the end of all of us," Savos said insistently. "We keep pushing forward and we'll make it. We will!"

"Come on," Atmah moved towards the Argonian, looking to help her. "You can make it. Let's go."

He knew, she realized as the shades winked out once more. Savos Aren had _known_ what was down there, and led his fellow mages right into it. A slight scowl crossed her face; yes she was a spy, a loner by nature, but this... this was just plain wrong. _Why_ had he done it? The reason was clearly complicated... He had talked five of his friends into coming with him, undoubtedly letting Atmah think it was her idea to begin with, but for what? What was the reason behind this?

The creatures beyond were more spirit than skeletal, but they could still be killed, for which she was grateful. They were also just as lacking in intelligence, which made things easier on her. Especially as the farther down she went, the more her power was drained. It replenished, naturally, but the drain itself was unrelenting, and shook her; _no one_ should have been able to just take her power like that.

The creatures possessed weapons she'd never seen before, and she was not above collecting two of each; undoubtedly the enchantments would be work knowing, and if nothing else, she could keep a set, and sell as set to some collector of oddities. They _were_ utterly unique items, and should be worth something...

Because despite how unnerved she was, and how much she was coming to dislike Labyrinthian, she refused to believe that it would be the place that killed her. Not while Ancano threatened the College.

The nice thing about free-standing soul gem traps was that all you had to do was knock the crystal out of alignment to disrupt the trap. Of course, that implied noticing the trap at all, and Auriel almost had some nasty burns from it. Mildly singed was an improvement, though she would have preferred to not have been caught by the trap at all.

The lightning trap beyond was just insult to injury.

She hadn't expected a word wall to be buried this far under Labyrinthian, nor had she expected a draugr who's Shout disarmed her. To call it annoying was an understatement, and lighting him on fire soothed that irritation away, though it took more concentrated effort; apparently this one was hardier than its cousins.

She retrieved the word and promptly ignored it. The creatures beyond were killed summarily, and she reached a room where she sat to catch her breath. The shades sprang to life around her, their number down to three. Most notably, the Argonian was missing this time.

"We shouldn't have left her there to die!" Atmah cried, voice thick with suppressed grief and anger.

"What else could we do?" Savos demanded. "Stay there and die with her? She refused to go on; we didn't have a choice!"

"This is it, you know?" the Nord said quietly, his arms folded over his chest. "Through this door. Can you feel it?"

Auriel shuddered. Whatever was beyond that door was dangerous, deadly, and waiting for her.

"We're not going to make it, are we?" Atmah said tremulously.

"We stay together," the Nord said firmly. "No matter what. Agreed?"

"I'll be right with you," Atmah nodded.

"Agreed," Savos nodded quickly himself. "We all stay together."

"But you didn't did you?" Auriel murmured wearily, running a hand over her face. "Gods, Savos, what did you _do_?"

She napped as best she could before that ominous door, exhausted beyond her own ability to push things. When she woke, she made herself eat, then doubled-checked every piece of her equipment; she did not want to die because her armor was thin in places, or her bowstring snapped at the wrong time.

Then she straightened her shoulders, shook herself out, and went through the door. She didn't know _what_ to expect, and that probably made it easier to not be stunned.

The room beyond soared overhead, revealing the two shades that were nothing more than power now, feeding energy into a barrier that contained... well, it _looked_ like a draugr, but the palpable weight of menace it held made it something else entirely. In its hands was a staff, and Auriel didn't doubt that it was the very same staff she had come looking for.

Which meant she was going to have to do what Savos Aren and his friends couldn't. She was going to have to win.

With regret and apology, she shot the two spirits, disrupting the energy that kept them in place. The barrier around the draugr faded into nothingness, and then the true fight began. She hid in the shadows to the best of her ability, coating her arrows in poison, but he found her after only a few shots, and she was forced to dodge magical lightning that stripped away her power.

In truth, it was a lucky shot that saved her, taking the creature through the eye and forcing it down to it's knees. It was in range enough for one of the swords she'd picked up on her journey through to take off its head.

Wearily she collected the Staff of Magnus, feeling the power thrum softly under her fingertips. The creature had an odd mask; she took that too, more for the enchantment she could sense than because she actually wanted it for herself.

She muttered apologies to the two spirits that she had been forced to remove, and headed out the door she found at the back of the tomb.

Savos' shade awaited her there.

"I'm sorry, friends... so sorry," he murmured. "I had no choice! It was the only way to make sure that monster never escaped! I promise you, I'll never let this happen again! I'll seal this whole _place_ away..."

Auriel shook her head a little, torn between sympathy and derision. Then sighed; she had no right to judge him, her hands were stained with the blood of many more, whether she liked admitting to it or not.

She started up and out, then froze as the door beyond the gate opened, ducking back down into the shadows as a Thalmor agent, hands lit by magic, moved confidently into the room. She was tired, but still in full possession of her wits, and she didn't much _care_ to hear what he would have said. She just shot him. Once through the throat. Once in the chest. And then once more, as he was falling in shock, through the eye.

"And _stay_ dead," she growled.


	11. Ten: Saving the College-What Next?

Ten:

Saving the College

What Next?

Things had gotten noticeably worse by the time she made it back. All the mages had been chased from the College, the barrier pushing itself outwards until it covered half the bridge. As she joined the mages, she saw Tolfdir, but no Mirabelle. That didn't fill her with any sort of confidence.

"You survived!" he exclaimed, leaning heavily against the signal well. "You have it then?"

"Yes. I have it."

"Let's hope it's as powerful as the Psijics believe it to be," he murmured.

"Where's Mirabelle?" Auriel asked. "Why is everyone out here?"

"She... she didn't make it," he said, shaking his head. "When it was clear we were going to have to fall back, she stayed behind and made sure the rest of us survived."

"Ancano's power is growing," Faralda interjected. "We can't check it in any way. Can't crack that magic he's using as a shield. Let's hope that long trip of yours was worth the wait."

Auriel frowned, and unhooked the staff from her quiver.

"Let's get in there, and end this."

"We're right behind you," Tolfdir nodded.

"I'll be amazed if any of us survive this," muttered one of the other mages.

Auriel huffed an irritated breath into the icy air, and started forward, staff held high. She placed it at the edge of the shield and braced herself as it practically sucked the magic in, doing away with the large shield.

With the way in clear, they raced to the Hall of the Elements, Auriel at the head of the group. The Staff was alive in her hands, and she had no intention of seeing Ancano survive this disaster. She flung the gates wide, and rushed in.

"You've come for me, have you?" he sneered. "You think I don't know what you're up to? You think I can't destroy you?!"

"I'm quite certain of that, actually," Auriel said, a veneer of calm in her words. She motioned quickly for the other mages to flank him. "Though you were never able to do that in the first place, Ancano."

"The power to unmake the world at my fingertips, and you think you can do _anything_ about it?"

One of the mages launched a fireball, it ablated off whatever shield was protecting him.

"Spells have no effect!" Tolfdir exclaimed.

"Hah!" Ancano snorted. "I am beyond your pathetic attempts at magic! You cannot _touch_ me."

Auriel smiled; it wasn't a particularly pleasant smile either. Silently, she lifted the Staff of Magnus, and pointed it at the Eye. And focused.

The Staff drew the power of the Eye into itself, and Auriel hissed as she worked to control it. Whatever banter came after, between Ancano and the other mages, she ignored it. Her focus, her world, was the fight between the power of the Staff and the Eye of Magnus.

The eye expanded, the shell floating away to reveal the blue heart of magic within, and still Auri fought to ground the magic the Staff was drawing in. Ancano could not, _would not_ be allowed to win.

The Eye closed abruptly, and she dropped to one knee, panting for breath, then glanced over to see Ancano, face down on the floor with an ice spike through his throat. She vehemently approved.

Tolfdir bent to help her stand, supporting her as she staggered.

"I _knew_ you could do it!" he cried.

"Yes, I did it. But now what?" she glanced at the Eye and frowned.

"I... I don't know," Tolfdir admitted. "Ancano is gone, but whatever he seems to have done to the Eye hasn't stopped."

"Tch..."

It couldn't stay here, that much was certain; if it stayed, it would draw in more people like Ancano, looking for a shortcut to power. Auriel chewed on her lower lip and studied the Eye, then startled as three Psijic mages seemed to phase in from nowhere.

One of them turned to her with a slight smile, and she recognized Qauranir.

"We knew you would succeed," he said genially. "Your victory here justifies our belief in you. You are more than capable enough to guide the College of Winterhold."

"...right. Okay. Now what?"

"They Eye has grown unstable. It cannot remain here, or it may destroy your College, and this world. It must be secured. Ancano's actions prove that the world is not ready for such a thing."

"You _think?_" she said acidly.

"We shall safeguard it... for now. You now had the opportunity to maintain and rebuild you College. You have our gratitude, Arch-Mage."

Auriel blinked, stunned into silence by the title. Arch-Mage, her?

As she watched, they moved to secure the Eye, and then with a flare of bright blue light, vanished.

"You've done it," Tolfdir enthused. "The College is safe again, thanks to your work."

"My work?" Auriel looked at him askance. "In case you haven't forgotten, it's _my_ damned fault that thing came here in the first place!"

"Well, the Psijics did say it was an inevitable conclusion," he said after a minute. "In light of everything that's happened, however, your work at ending the crisis is more important than your role in finding the Eye. I dare say the Psijics are right, and there's no one more deserving to be Arch-Mage."

She shook her head a little and sighed, not sure if she wanted to laugh or just fall over in exhaustion. From a bag, Tolfdir produced a set of robes that matched the ones Savos had worn, albeit without the layers of magic on them.

"Here, consider these yours, and the Arch-Mage's quarters as well."

"...only if you'll be the Master Wizard in place of Mirabelle," she said after a moment.

He blinked at her, then nodded.

"I would be honored to accept that title, Arch-Mage. I will be here if you need any advice at all."

"...would you mind telling everyone it's safe to come back? I... think I need to rest for a while."

"Of course, of course!"

Tolfdir marched out, happily, and Auriel dragged herself up the flights of stairs that led to the Arch-Mage's quarters. _Her_ quarters.

"...this was _not_ how things were supposed to go," she sighed, flopping gracelessly onto the bed. "_Befriend_ the Arch-Mage, not _become_ the Arch-Mage. ….Still, I suppose this has its own upside to it. Few Thalmor will come this far north, and Winterhold is hardly a large town..."

It wouldn't be enough, she knew, but for the moment she was willing to let herself bask in the achievement. There would be no need for a Thalmor adviser, and, in point of fact, she had a feeling that Thalmor would be less welcome up here than they had been before. All the better for her, really.

She spent a week at the College, mostly in her new quarters, learning everything she could about as many things as possible. She often went to sleep with her head full of knowledge and woke up with the desire to know more. She laid the Staff of Magnus to rest on a shelf hidden beyond the half wall that concealed the bed and personal areas, and stuffed a spell-book she'd found in the tomb into the safe, because _no one_ needed to get their hands on something like that.

And she plotted her next move. From what she'd heard the Thieves Guild was in trouble, but they had enough backing in Riften that—if she could get them back onto their feet—they could potentially expand again. Something about it seemed odd, though, and eventually she decided that her next move would be the Bards Guild. Not because she enjoyed music—she did, and could sing, though that never happened among other people—but because Bards generally carried the best news and information from place to place.

Solitude, then was her next city. Or at least, it would be once she'd made a stop in Whiterun to see if there was any mail waiting for her. She was hoping her house might be done soon, and had admittedly lost track of the time since commissioning it.

Her plans were put on hold, however, as not far from Windhelm—she'd taken the coastal route this time, for sheer curiosity and to throw off people who expected her to head to Dawnstar—she ran across a black-armored Argonian that tried to kill her. They failed miserably, of course, but what was interesting was the note she found on the body.

_As instructed, you are to eliminate Auriel Talmanari by any means necessary. The Black Sacrament has been performed - somebody wants this poor fool dead._

_We've already received payment for the contract. Failure is not an option_

_~Astrid_

"...I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that someone set the Brotherhood on me," she murmured, cocking her head slightly. "But this is something that I don't think I should let linger."

The question, of course, was how to go about it. She could join them, but that wouldn't prevent them from killing her if they got a contract for it. No, taking them out entirely was likely the best course of action.

The question was, how to go about doing it? She thought for a minute, there on the trail, then looked at the nearby signpost. She would rest up in Windhelm, then, and perhaps find out something there.

She hadn't actually set foot _in_ Windhelm before this, and was moderately impressed by the size of the city. Candlehearth Hall was the name of the inn, directly in front, and she ignored the bickering of Nord and Dunmer in favor of stepping out of the cold. The upper common room of the inn gave her everything she needed.

"That boy," she heard whispered.

"The Aretino boy?"

"Yes."

"Can't believe he's trying something so reckless."

"Who in their right mind summons the Brotherhood?"

"Who's to say he's in his right mind? He did run away from the orphanage..."

Auriel smiled faintly, and sipped her mead. She had certainly hit the jackpot this round. If she swiped the Brotherhood Contract out from under their noses, they'd have to come to her. And from there, she could extract her knowledge on how to go about making sure they didn't come after her _ever_ again.

She napped for a bit, comfortable in the warmth of the inn, and her chosen chair, and when it was dark and most sane people asleep, she slipped out of the inn and went to find the Aretino boy's home. She felt a little sympathy for the boy; who hadn't wanted to run away every now and again? She also felt the slightest touch of vindication. If the Thalmor _had_ sicced the Brotherhood on her, well, she was about to make their day so very much worse.

The door to the house was locked, but that was hardly an issue. In the dead of night, with the guards elsewhere, it was child's play to pick it. As she slipped silently into the house she heard the boy repeating the Black Sacrament, interspersed with whimpering to be answered, and complaints of exhaustion. Ever so quietly she slipped up the stairs, through the house, until she stood behind him.

He was a boy indeed, not even thirteen if he was a day. She suspected he was actually ten, and needed a parental persona... a glance about the house suggested that he had no such thing, and she wondered what might've happened to them. But only momentarily.

"So, you wish someone dead?" she murmured softly.

The boy jumped a foot, scattering his effigy pieces as he squawked in fright. The fear became awe. Auriel simply waited.

"You've come at last!" he exclaimed. "I knew you would! I did the Black Sacrament over and over with the body and the... _things._ And now you're here, an assassin from the Dark Brotherhood!"

She nodded lightly, remembering well her own interactions with the Brotherhood back when they had been a somewhat hale group. They had preferred to let her give the details, the instructions, and the payment. Some of them were silent. Some of them encouraged her to speak.

"It's okay, you don't have to speak!" he said excitedly. "You're here, and now you'll accept my contract!"

"Inform me of the details, child."

"My mother she... she died. I'm an orphan now, so they sent me to that terrible place in Riften. _Honorhall_," he said in disgust. "The headmistress is an evil, cruel woman. The call her 'Grelod the Kind.' But she's not kind, she's evil, to _all_ of us! So I ran away, and came home. And performed the Black Sacrament. And now you're here, so you can kill Grelod the Kind!"

Auriel thought about it, then shrugged lightly. If this headmistress was that bad, she was likely doing the orphans and the orphanage a favor. And if this was the way to get their attention, well, so be it.

She nodded lightly, then caught the boy as sheer exhaustion caught up with him. She wasn't the best with children, but after a moment she sighed and put him on his bed, then left, locking the door again behind her. After careful consideration she went back to Candlehearth and dozed off in her chair again until morning came around, then hired a carriage to take her to Riften; she needed to look in on the Thieves Guild anyways...

Much like the trip from Whiterun to Winterhold, the trip from Windhelm to Riften took around a week. It wasn't a terribly fun trip either; it rained most of the way there, and the cart had no cover. Auriel was not sick, but she was not exactly a dry, or _happy_ Altmer by the time they reached the outer gate. Being stopped by a guard did nothing to improve her mood.

"Hold there," he said imperiously. "Before I let you in to Riften, you need to pay the visitor's tax."

"I'm wet, I'm tired, I'm cold, and I've been sitting in that cart for a week," she said shortly. "I don't believe there is such a thing, now let me in."

"Are you trying to cause trouble?" he demanded.

"Are you attempting to shake me down for coin?" she retorted.

He back down instantly.

"All right, all right. You want everyone to hear you?" He held up his hands in a placating manner. "I'll let you in. Just let me unlock the gate..."

As soon as the gate was unlocked, into the city she went. It was nice to not get sick easily, but she massively disliked the rain. It was cold, nothing like the warm rain of the Isle... _Divines_ but she missed her homeland.

A voice called out to her from the darkness and she turned warily, ice shimmering in one palm.

"I don't know you," the Nord said warily. "You in Riften looking for trouble?"

"...that depends on the sort of trouble you're referring to," she said after a moment.

"Hmph. Well, there's nothin to see here," he said flatly. "Last thing the Black-Briars need is some stranger stickin their nose where it doesn't belong."

"Who?"

"The Black-Briars have Riften in their pocket, and the Thieves Guild at their back, so keep your nose out of their business. Me? I'm Maul. I work the street for them. You need dirt on anythin, I'm your guy. But it'll cost ya."

"Hmmmm..." She cocked her head speculatively; now _here_ was a reason to stand around and get a bit more rain-soaked. "All right. Name your price."

"Two-fifty," he said instantly.

She shrugged lightly and handed the coin over.

"Pleasure doin business with ya," he smirked a little. "So what do you wanna know?"

"Tell me what you know about the Thieves Guild, if you please. _If_ you know anything, that is."

"You kiddin?" He snorted a little. "My brother, Dirge, works in their hideout. I used to run with them myself, but took a job with Maven when they started hittin a rough patch. If you wanna get in on that action, find Brynjolf in the marketplace. I'm sure he could use someone like you. He's hard to miss; his hair is almost as red as yours."

"Hmmm..." she nodded lightly. Now she had a name and features. "My thanks. Now, tell me about the Black-Briars."

"Well, you got Maven. She pretty much runs the whole operation. She's got friend in high places if you know what I mean," Maul shrugged a little. "She's also got ties to the Dark Brotherhood and the Thieves Guild, so basically, no one can touch her. Just remember; if she tells you to do somethin, you'd better damn well do _exactly_ what she says."

Auriel nodded lightly in understanding. She was going to be taking out _one_ of those pillars, but if the Thieves Guild could be brought back up to speed, well...

"Thank you."

"Mmhm."

And off he stalked.

She took brief shelter in the inn to dry herself out, and briefly spoke to the priest of Mara. She was surprised to hear that his was the only temple that held weddings, then mentally shrugged. Things were done differently in Skyrim, clearly. She donated a few coins mostly because she felt sorry for him, then stepped out into the damp night to find Grelod the Kind.

Honorhall was on the far end of Riften, near Mistveil Keep. It was an ordinary looking building, dark due to the fact that it was night, and the area around was perfectly still. Auriel crept in, silent as a wraith, and listened intently to what was going on.

It sounded like she had the children still up, and was lecturing them certainly. Telling them to give up on being adopted, threatening them with beatings... How had someone like _that_ been put in charge of an orphanage? Auriel shook her head, moved around the corner, and loosed her arrow, staying just long enough to confirm that the woman was dead before slipping right back out of Honorhall.

She lingered for a few hours, waiting for the sun to rise, before she calmly, casually, hitched a ride on a cart back to Windhelm and the Aretino boy.

"Well?" he demanded once she made her presence known. "Grelod the Kind? Is she..."

Auriel nodded once, very slightly.

"Ha ha!" he cheered, jumping up and down in glee. "I knew you could do it! I _knew_ the Dark Brotherhood would save me! Here, just like I promised! This should fetch you a nice price!" and he pushed an old platter into her hands. "And thank you. Thank you again!"

He turned to dance gleefully around the room and she silently slipped the plate into his own belongings. She had no use for it; this was just her way of calling out the Brotherhood.

She made her way back to Whiterun, and practically fell into her bed, sleeping deep. Deeper than normal, in point of fact, as she discovered when she woke on the floor of a shack that reeked of blood and death. She grimaced and slowly sat up, shaking off the aftereffects of whatever drug had been used to keep her unconscious.

"Sleep well?" came a deep, feminine voice.

Auriel looked up as her vision cleared, seeing a woman in black and red armor lounging on a battered bookshelf.

"...where am I, and who are you?" she said quietly.

"Does it matter? You're warm, dry... and still very much alive. Which is more than can be said for old Grelod, hmm?"

Auriel shrugged lightly.

"Well, I had to get your attention somehow," she said, an icy smile crossing her face. "So nice of you to come to me, this time, instead of sending another one of your people, Astrid."

The woman's eyes flickered a little in surprise, and Auri lifted her hands slightly.

"Oh, you didn't know? You assassin for Auriel Talmanari failed. And I don't leave enemies at my back."

That was all the warning she gave; ice flashed from her palms to impale the woman. She choked in surprise, and slowly slid from the bookshelf.

"...I'll have to report this to a guard," Auriel murmured as she went through Astrid's things. "...I suppose I'll have to find a road, first."

The three individuals that Astrid had brought for one reason or another—Auriel hadn't wanted to find out what—were cut loose, and set free, and Auriel turned her attention to hopefully finding a road. None of them were interested in traveling with her, so they all went their separate ways.

It took her a few days, but she eventually found her way to Morthal, and reported the deed to a guard. He stared at her in abject shock for a few minutes.

"Gods, you're _serious!_" he blurted after a minute. "You'd better report this to Commander Maro right away! He's up at the Penitus Oculatus headquarters, out near Dragon Bridge. It's about a two-hour walk from Solitude."

"I shall," she nodded lightly. "My thanks."

Solitude was where she needed to be soon anyways, though at the rate she was going, it was likely to take another two weeks before she could become a member of the Bardic Guild. She walked to Solitude, which took around four days, and then turned towards Dragon Bridge with a weary sigh. She _really_ needed to get another horse...

When she reached the town, it was approaching midnight, so instead of bothering Commander Maro, she went to the inn and slept for nine hours. Maro, when she met him, was a pale skinned, black haired Imperial with a hard face that somehow managed to convey anxiety and sleep deprivation.

"Yes?"

"I was told to report to you," she said diffidently. "I've killed the leader of the Dark Brotherhood."

He stared at her briefly.

"The leader of the Dark Brotherhood?" he finally asked. "You mean Astrid? Dead? And this is no jest?"

"No sir. No jest."

"Ha! This is a stroke of good fortune!" He grinned fiercely. "Long have I been watching the Dark Brotherhood's movements, waiting for the time to strike! That time is now! My agents have discovered the pass-phrase into their Sanctuary. It is 'Silence, my brother.' Every assassin in that rat hole must be put down! I give this honor to you, and if you manage it, and come back alive, you will be rewarded most handsomely!"

"Where is their Sanctuary?" she asked.

"It's here, in the forests of Falkreath. Remember, 'Silence, my brother' is the phrase that will get you in. Good luck."

She noted the location, and realized that it was very close to Lakeview manor. She could check in on the construction, and maybe even retrieve her horse! That was a heartening thought, and she did not hesitate to make her way back to Solitude, so that she could get a cart ride to Falkreath Hold.

In truth, it wasn't terribly _difficult_ to kill the remaining members of the Brotherhood. Stealth and poisoned arrows did the trick well enough, and she picked up everything there was to grab from their hideout. Terribly useful stuff, even if that which carried the enchantment was a little bit... garish.

Her house, when she stopped in to look, was about three-fourths of the way finished. It would cost extra to furnish the interior, and she had no troubles with paying for that as well; the sooner this house was done, the better in her opinion. And unlike her former compatriots, she wouldn't kill everyone who'd worked on it. No, instead she gave Gerdur a mixture of mead and wine, with a compulsion spell on it. If anyone asked about the redheaded mage with fire blue eyes, or about her knowledge of a house in Falkreath, she wouldn't know anything. Naturally she insisted on the wine being shared about, and she didn't mind that it would set back the building for a few days while everyone nursed their hangovers. When they were done with this job, they would remember it with pride, so long as no one actually _discussed_ it.

She had inquired about Suri too, but had been sadly informed that the homestead had been attacked a few times by local wildlife, and Suri had not survived one of those attacks. It was sad, and a little frustrating, but Auriel could hardly blame them.

Back to Dragon Bridge she went, purse light, and heart a little heavier. It was better, she reminded herself over and over, to not get attached to people, places, things. It was safer to be alone.

But it was so very lonely as well.

She refused to let herself linger on the depression. After collecting her reward from Commander Maro, she made her way back to Solitude to join the Bards Guild. It wasn't a terribly difficult task, just a tedious one, though it did net her a Thu'um she finally liked. She wasn't sure what it did until she used it, and her yelp was almost entirely involuntary as the Thu'um propelled her forwards at a speed she had previously not traveled before unaided.

She _liked_ it.

With a rumor network established—as a bard, she would definitely get to hear some of the better ones now, and even the Thalmor weren't ignored by them—she finally turned her attention back towards Riften.

It was time, at last, to join the Thieves Guild.


	12. Eleven: Thieves Guild initiation

Eleven:

Thieves Guild initiation

Unlike her previous trip, the weather in Riften had modulated to sunny and clear, if not precisely what she would consider warm. For a lakeside town, it wasn't so bad; the city was built on two levels, with a marketplace up top and some of the more established shops—and a few homes—on the second level, closest to the water.

Auriel didn't have to do much work to find Brynjolf; they spotted each other at roughly the same moment, and he approached her.

"Never done an honest day's work in your life for all that coin you're carryin, eh lass?"

Auriel's brows went up slightly.

"I'll have you know, I gathered most of this legitimately. From barrows, and undead, and creatures who have no use for money," she sniffed a little. "Besides which, my wealth is none of your business."

"Oh, but that's where you're wrong lass. Wealth _is_ my business."

"Please stop calling me 'lass.' I could be your twice-grandmother. Call me Tam."

He blinked, and she smiled faintly, pleased to have thrown him off stride.

"And if you're offering me a test, I accept. What do you want me to do?"

Again he blinked, and her smile deepened ever so slightly; for all certain issues had been out of her control lately, it helped to know that she could make people stop and think when she put her mind to it.

"Well then... I'm going to cause a distraction, and you're going to steal Madesi's silver ring from the strongbox under his stand. Once you have it, slip it into Brand-Shei's pocket without him noticing."

"Who is who?" she cocked her head a little.

"Madesi is the Argonian over there with the fine jewelry. Brand-Shei is the Dunmer over there selling bits and baubles."

"All right. Begin."

He smirked a little at her, nodded, and she stepped back to casually circle the market while Brynjolf distracted everyone. She snorted a little to hear him making up such clear tales about 'Falmer-blood elixir.' Nonsense, all of it, and yet these people were eating it up! Still it made her path clear enough, and few people noticed the invisible elf who pulled a plain silver ring from the jeweler's stall, and slipped it into the pocket of the dark elf sitting and watching the show.

As soon as she was clear, she casually circled back around, and Brynjolf cut himself off, sending everyone back to their stalls in disgust and irritation.

"Well, seems like I chose the right lady for the job," he said casually as she 'inspected' the contents of his stall. "The way things have been going around here... it's a relief that the plan went off without a hitch."

"I am one of the best," Auriel shrugged lightly. "Not _the_ best, but one of them."

"So I see, Tam. Would you like to be a part of our little group? We have a home beneath Riften, in a tavern called the Ragged Flagon. Make it there in one piece, and we'll see about letting you in properly."

She shrugged idly, nodded, and moved calmly away. Everything she'd _heard_ about the Thieves Guild hadn't given her much to hope for, really, but it was one of the few projects she wouldn't mind taking her time with. If they could be brought back up to full strength, the monetary backing would be certain to give even the Thalmor pause to think. Oh, they'd circumvent it eventually, if she stopped there, but Auriel had no plans on stopping just yet. The ultimate coup would be helping Ulfric Stormcloak in his pointless civil war. As long as he kicked the Thalmor out, she'd be happy. Even if it was only the obvious ones.

She made her way to the lower level of the city, into the Ratway. It was painfully easy to circumvent, even with the number of people in the way. In the damp environment, ice was a far more effective threat, and she used it to her advantage, freezing people where they ran.

The Ragged Flagon was a wreck, though she had to give them credit for the place not smelling like a sewer. It dripped and drizzled, but it did not smell terrible. Somehow. There was a group of them, dressed in leather armor that looked fairly identical to each other; it wasn't hard to guess that these people were all part of the Thieves Guild. Brynjolf was talking with the bartender as she approached, and she made no secret of it either.

He turned a little surprised, but mostly pleased. She cocked her head a little.

"I thought you said that was supposed to be a challenge," she said, before he could even speak. "Nothing about getting here was difficult."

"Hah!" he chuckled. "Reliable _and_ headstrong? You're turning out to be quite the prize. I have another task if you're interested; a few deadbeats that refuse to pay their protection fees. Explain to them the error of their ways, if you please."

"Names and locations, please."

"Keerava, Bersi Honey-hand and Haelga. Do it right, and you'll have a permanent place in the organization."

"And you want me to handle this... how?"

"The debt is secondary. Just remind them that we're not to be ignored. Just... don't kill them. It's bad for business," he shook his head a little. "Bersi has this ugly dwarven urn in his shop. Haelga has a statue of Dibella in her bunkhouse that she dotes over; that should be leverage for her. As for Keerava, talk to Talen-Jei at the Bee and Barb. He might have something useful for us."

Auriel nodded lightly, and turned to leave.

"I'll be here when you're done," he said.

"I won't be long."

She wasn't either. She started with Bersi; when he refused to pay, she simply turned and broke his dwarven urn. It _hurt_, but the man caved, and paid up. Keerava's was trickier; Talen-Jei resented being used as help, but he informed her of some family down in Morrowind that she used as a threat, and Keerava paid as well. Haelga, being a smart one, had heard from Bersi about what she'd done, and didn't even bother with refusing; she saw the red-haired Altmer and immediately paid up. Auriel grimaced a little at the ease of it, and made her way back down to Brynjolf.

"Again, I thought you indicated this would be _difficult_," she snorted a little. "They all caved like an empty beehive."

"Job's done, done clean, _and_ you brought the gold," he chuckled a little. "I like that. We could definitely use someone like you in our outfit."

"I came with the intention to join," she shrugged a little.

"All right then; clearly larceny is in your blood. I think you'll do more than just fit in around here!"

She snorted a little, and wondered what he'd say if she revealed the fact that she had once been the Gray Fox of Cyrodiil. Then decided that since there was no proof, it was pointless to mention it; without the hood at the least, no one would believe it. The wanted posters had never changed, and any 'representative' statue of the fox had been undeniably male. Which had just made it easier and far more entertaining for her.

"Before anything else, I would like to ask about this recent run of bad luck you seem to have been having."

"Ah, well, we've run into a rough patch, certainly, but it's nothing to be concerned about," he said dismissively. "Tell you what; you keep making us coin, and I'll worry about everything else. Fair enough?"

She gave him a arch look.

"Twice-grandmother," she said shortly. "Do _not_ patronize me."

"All right then," he held up a hand peaceably. "How about following me then, and I'll show you what we're all about?"

She nodded, and he led the way through the back of the Flagon into the Riften cistern, where the guild members were gathered. It wasn't a terrible place for such a thing; there was light from the hole in the ceiling, and fresh water flowed in, but it was very lacking in privacy. She grimaced a little as she took it in, then shrugged; she didn't have to _live_ in the cistern. Just visit for jobs.

Brynjolf led her to the center platform above the waters of the cistern, where a suspicious looking man stood, eyes narrowed as he watched them approach. Auriel disliked him instantly, though she hid it beyond a mask of bland indifference.

"Mercer," Brynjolf greeted him. "This is the one I was talking about. Our new recruit."

"This better not be another waste of the Guild's resources, Brynjolf," Mercer growled. Then he looked at her. "Before we continue, I want to make one thing perfectly clear; if you play by the rules, you walk away rich. You break the rules, and you lose your share. No debates, no discussions... You do _what_ we say, _when_ we say. Do I make myself clear?"

She looked him up and down, and made no secret that she was doing so. Something about him, from the way he held himself, to the irritated stare of his eyes suggested that he was hiding something. Something _big_. After a moment, she shrugged.

"As glass."

"Good. Then I think it's time we put your expertise to the test."

Her inspection had made him nervous; she hid a smirk, and wondered what it was he was hiding.

"Wait a moment," Brynjolf protested. "You're not talkin about Goldenglow, are you? Even our little Vex couldn't get in."

"You claim she possesses an aptitude for our line of work. If so, let her prove it," Mercer retorted.

Yup. She'd made him _very_ nervous. Good.

"Goldenglow estate is critically important to one of our largest clients," he continued, glancing back at her. "However the owner has suddenly decided to take matters into his own hands and shut us out. He needs to be taught a lesson. Brynjolf will provide you with more details."

"Mercer, aren't you forgetting something?" the red-haired man asked.

"Hmm? Oh, right. Since Brynjolf assures me you'll be nothing but a benefit to us, then you're in. Welcome to the Thieves Guild."

She nodded a little as Mercer stalked away, and Brynjolf clapped a hand briefly onto her shoulder. She looked at it, then raised an eyebrow at him, and he quickly let go.

"Welcome to the family, Tam," he said. "I'm expecting you to make us a lot of coin, so don't disappoint me. If you need some extra jobs outside of what Mercer comes up with, go talk to Delvin Mallory, or Vex. Oh, and talk to Tanilia in the Flagon. She'll set you up with some new armor."

Auriel nodded, filing away the information for future use.

"So, tell me about Goldenglow," she invited.

"Goldenglow Estate is a bee farm; they raise the wretched little things for honey. It's owned by a smart-mouth wood elf named Aringoth. We'd like you to teach him a lesson by burning down three of the hives, and clearing out the safe in the main house."

"And the catch is?"

"The catch is that you can't burn the whole place to the ground. That important client Mercer mentioned would be furious if you did."

She cocked her head a little in thought, then nodded. No point in alienating the few clients the guild had, of course.

"And what should I do about Aringoth?"

"Maven prefers that Aringoth remain alive, but if he tries to prevent you from completing the job, kill him. The Guild has a lot riding on this, remember that."

She held up a hand briefly.

"Maven, as in Maven Black-Briar? That's your important client?"

He startled, and blinked at her in surprise.

"Now how did you...?"

"Please," she frowned. "I did my research before looking you lot up."

"...so I see," he murmured. "Yes, Maven's the client. If we destroy all the hives, she'll have to import the honey for her meadery, and that would make her very angry indeed. Now, Goldenglow has mercenaries hired by Aringoth, not the typical city guards. Watch yourself lass. Talk to Vex if you want more details on that."

Auriel nodded, and went to do just that. While she could handle a pack of mercs, any relevant information wasn't to be passed up. After attempting to intimidate her—Auriel let it pass because she wasn't, and Vex was one of the ones who held useful intel—Vex informed the Altmer that Aringoth had practically tripled the guard, and that there was a sneaky way in, in the form of an old sewer tunnel. Then she took a moment to speak with Tanilia, another who tried to intimidate her; this time she just ignored the attempt, and picked up her new armor, as well as traded a few things she didn't want for coin.

Goldenglow, she discovered, was practically in the middle of the lake, and she hissed a few choice curses as she slipped into the icy water. She found the tunnel Vex had mentioned, and other than a few rats, it was easily traversed. Slipping through the guards to get to the hives wasn't as simple, but she was not above using lethal force to get through where she had to.

It was more of a challenge to get through the actual estate without lighting the house itself on fire; which she did consider at one point. Soon enough though, she had her hands on everything that Maven wanted... and there was one less Bosmer to get in the way.


	13. Twelve: Maven Black-Briar

Twelve:

Maven Black-Briar

"Aringoth _sold_ Goldenglow?" Brynjolf muttered incredulously as he looked at the letter Auriel had found.

"Apparently," Auriel shook her head a little. "He said it wasn't his choice, but he couldn't back out. When he refused to give me the key for his safe, we fought, and now he's dead."

"Hmph. Somehow I'm not surprised. Whatever that idiot was thinking, you saved him from finding out what Maven would do in revenge. If only the parchment had the buyers' _name_ instead of that odd symbol," he frowned a little. "Any idea what that might be."

She shook her head a little.

"I've seen maybe symbols for signatures in my life, but that is not one I know of," she admitted.

"Blast. Well, I'll check my sources and speak to Mercer." He sighed a little. "As for you, you're off to speak with Maven Black-Briar. She asked for you specifically, Tam."

Auriel snorted a little and shook her head lightly.

"Sure, but will I come out of it alive?" she asked dryly.

He huffed a little in amusement.

"If it was like that, she wouldn't be asking for you, she'd be calling on the Dark Brotherhood. It's just business."

'Just business' didn't necessarily mean harmless, but the idea of Maven trying to call on the Brotherhood was worth a faint smirk. There no longer _was_ a Brotherhood.

"Any clue about what she wants with me?"

"That's between you and Maven. I'd prefer to keep it that way, too. I like all my parts attached to me," he shook his head a little. "But honestly, don't worry about it. Maven's business deals usually involve quite a bit of gold for her people."

"Speaking of, I believe you owe me some of that as well," she said archly.

"Aye. Remind me to never get into a betting match with you. Somehow I get the feeling you'd clean me out entirely." he chuckled, and obligingly paid up.

"I just might, at that," she smirked.

Maven Black-Briar, she discovered, was a short Nord woman with ink-black hair and cold eyes set in a face that was admittedly more handsome than beautiful. They met in the upstairs rooms of the Bee and Barb, and Auriel chose to remain standing, just in case Brynjolf was wrong about the woman's intentions.

"So you're the one, hmm?" Maven glanced up at her, and raised an eyebrow slightly. "You don't look so impressive."

"I'm the best at what I do," Auriel said after a moment.

"Is that confidence I hear, or arrogance? Strange how often they're confused," Maven shook her head a little. "You have to understand; it's been a long time since Brynjolf's sent me anyone I can rely on."

"No faith in the Guild?" Auriel asked idly.

"Faith?" Maven snorted. "I have no faith in anyone. All I care about is cause and effect. Did the job get done, and did it get done correctly. There's no gray area."

"Then tell me what you want me to do."

"Head to the Bannered Mare in Whiterun, and look for Mallus Macius. He'll fill you in on all the details."

Maven turned away, and Auriel made her way outside. Once there, she found a bench and sat down, letting the chill air clear her head. Maven had an intense sort of presence, and she didn't much care for it. Not in the same way she disliked Mercer, but she could sense that she and Maven would have a working relationship only. If that.

She shook her head a little and adjusted her gauntlets absently. It would be nice to be back in Whiterun for a time, even if it was only a short visit. Perhaps she'd see Farkas, too.

The idea startled her enough that she quickly brushed it away. She would be far to busy to see _anyone_, especially that silver-eyed Nord. Best to put the idea out of her mind entirely.

The trip was a long one, and Auriel stretched out the kinks in her legs and back as she walked up to see the renewed Gildergreen. The tree had been on her list of things to do, and it hadn't taken too much effort to actually get it _done_ when she'd been in the area for it. The blossoms were beautiful, and the smell permeated the whole city. It had sort of become her place of relaxation, the rare chances she returned to Whiterun. She preferred it in either early morning or late evening, as there were fewer people around... and that annoying priest hadn't started bellowing, or had just finished for the night. She still wasn't sure how the Thalmor hadn't yet dragged him away...

She sat on a bench and leaned her head back, watching the stars come out between the tree branches, and smiled a little. She didn't feel perfectly safe yet, no, not by a longshot, but little by little she was building her bases. Covering her exits if she needed to make them quickly. A house or homestead in each hold had sounded like madness when she'd first considered the idea; now it just seemed sensible. She could hardly operate out of some of the places she'd been granted so far; the Ragged Flagon was a joke, and admittedly the College was just too far north for her liking.

Whiterun was a good central location, but she'd already done too much of note in the city. If the Thalmor heard that she was the new Thane, they'd move against her quickly enough. There had to be a way to make them pause for thought, a way to keep them off her back.

She heard him well before he made his way over to her; steel armor was not the quietest of heavy armors to wear, and he was one of the only people she'd met in the city that wore it. She lifted her head a little, torn between annoyance that her star-gazing time was interrupted, and a mild pleasure at seeing him again.

"Mind if I sit here too?" he asked.

"There's room," she shrugged lightly, waving a hand at the space. "As you'd like."

Farkas sat down almost gingerly at the opposite end of the bench; it made her smile, just slightly, to see him trying not to impinge on her space while still obviously wanting to sit near her.

"You're observant," she said, letting mild approval creep into her voice. "Though not terrible subtle."

He flushed a little, and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. Auriel felt her smile grow a little wider. Not subtle, no, but there was something cute about that.

"Haven't seen you around in a while," he said after a minute. "Was getting kinda worried I... wouldn't see you around at all."

"Oh, I'll be in and out," she said easily. "My current work keeps me over in Riften, for the most part. Before that, it was up in Winterhold and Haafingar area. Don't fret, I'm sure at some point you'll see me on a daily basis."

Watching him light up with a hopeful grin was just too much, and she brought up a hand to hide her smile. He was just... so _not_ subtle. In its own way, it was endearing.

"You should come up to Jorrvaskr sometime," he suggested. "Come see what Aela meant when she said we were a strong family group. Sure there's brawls sometimes, but we're always fighting for each other's honor too."

"I might. I might not. I haven't yet made up my mind, and unfortunately, am currently too busy to visit," she shrugged lightly, delicately, and reluctantly got to her feet. "Sadly, I am here on business, not pleasure, so I'm afraid I must depart."

"Ah... be careful out there."

She smiled a little, and nodded in acknowledgment of his words. Then took herself off to the inn and her contact.

She found Mallus Macius in the back kitchen of the inn, looking as though he hadn't gotten a decent night's sleep in the past week.

"Can't a man drink in peace?" he groused as she approached.

"Maven said you're expecting me," she murmured softly in response, ignoring the smell of mead on his breath.

"I'm gonna keep this short cause we've got a lot to do," he replied in the same quiet tone. "Honningbrew's owner, Sabjorn, is going to hold a tasting for Whiterun's Captain of the Guard, and we're going to poison the mead."

"You have it?"

"No, no, that's the beauty of the whole plan. We're going to get Sabjorn to give it to us," he smirked. "The meadery has quite the pest problem, and the whole city knows about it. Brewing mead and pest poison don't mix well, if you know what I mean."

"And I fit into this... how?" Auriel asked, tipping her head slightly.

"You're going to happen by, and lend poor old Sabjorn a helping hand. He's going to give you the poison to use on the pests, but you're also going to dump it into the brewing vat."

"I see," she nodded a little. "Clever."

"Maven and I spent weeks planning this. All we need now is for someone like you to get in there and get it done," he gestured impatiently at her. "Now get going before Sabjorn grows a brain and hires someone else to do his dirty work."

"A few more questions first; How do getto the brewing vats?"

"Both parts of the meadery are connected by tunnels the pests have made underneath. There's an entrance to them in the basement of the warehouse, that used to be boarded over. I've already removed the boards so that the meadery would get infested. That's where you should start."

"Why not just go in through the brewery?"

"Sabjorn keeps that locked up tight. If you can get through that way, go right ahead."

"Why are you doing this?"

"I made the mistake of borrowing coin from Sabjorn. He's allowing me to pay it back, but he's working my fingers to the bone. He treats me like a slave; I have to do every nasty, dirty job in the meadery."

"...I think there's more to it than that," she coaxed. "Come on."

"If this plan works, not only is my debt gone, but I'll be set up for life. Maven and I worked out a little deal. If Sabjorn ends up in jail, she's gonna take over his little meadery. And guess who gets to run the Black-Briar Meadery in Whiterun?"

"You, I presume."

"Yeah. Me."

Auriel shook her head a little and slipped out the side door into the night. Sabjorn and his meadery could wait for morning to come; _she_ wanted to catch up on her sleep, and maybe sell a few things more before she went to the meadery.

A good rest was everything she needed, and even if the day was clouded over, her mood was well into the range of contentment. Honningbrew Meadery wasn't far out of town, and she'd passed it many times in her travels. This was, however, the first time she'd gone in, and she glanced around curiously.

Sabjorn was a somewhat rotund man in mead-stained clothes with a receding hairline, and a scowl that could stop even the hardiest of people in their tracks. Auriel simply raised an eyebrow at his disagreeable expression.

"What are you gawking at," he grumped, crossing his arms over his chest. "Can't you see I have problems here?"

"And what problems would those be?" she inquired mildly.

"Are you kidding me? Look at this place. I'm supposed to be holding a tasting of the new Honnigbrew Reserve for the Captain of the Guard. If he sees the meadery in this state, I'll be ruined!"

"Perhaps I can help," she offered after a moment.

"Oh really?" he sneered a little. "And I don't suppose you'd just do it out of the kindness of your heart, would you?"

"...no. No I would not."

"Well, I hope you're not expecting to get paid until the job's _done_," he said flatly.

"I'd recommend it," she said silkily. "Of course, I can always run out and yell 'skeever' if it's too much trouble..."

"Okay, okay!" he said hastily. "No need to make rash decisions. Here's half. You can have the rest when the job's done. My only demand is that these vermin be completely eradicated before my reputation is completely destroyed."

"And how would I do that, good sir?" she said, allowing a hint of mockery to creep into her tone.

"I bought some poison," he said, affronted. "I was going to have my lazy, good-for-nothing assistant Mallus do it, but he seems to have vanished. If you plant this in the vermin's nest, it should stop them from ever coming back."

"Very well, we have a deal."

He handed her the poison, and huffed a little.

"Don't come back until every one of those vermin are dead."

Auriel smiled, and went into the meadery.

As Mallus had said, the basement tunnel was unboarded, and there were more than a few skeever bodies around. Arrows were probably overkill for the dog-sized rats, but instinct suggested that she go full-stealth to do this. She was glad she listened; the madman who had specially trained some of the skeevers wouldn't have been easy to put down without the element of surprise.

She came out the other side a mess of spiderwebs, skeever leavings and ash, her good mood all but gone. She was going to have _words_ with Mallus about leaving that pertinent detail out of her briefing. She dumped what remained of the poison into the brewing vat, dusted herself off as best she good, then grabbed the key by the door and let herself out of the brewery.

It was, perhaps, the first time she was happy to walk out into rain. Rain, at least, would get the worst of the webs off better than her own hands were, and she could blame her somewhat disheveled look on that. She was _definitely_ going to need a bath after all of this was done with.

But first she had a tasting to watch, to see if she'd done it right. When she entered and had a seat, Sabjorn hurried out. Undoubtedly to the brewery, as he came back lugging a small keg of mead. She hid a smile and watched as he fussed over it, sending Mallus—who had apparently come back after she'd gone under the building—back to wash the cup he was intending to use at least three separate times before the Captain of the Guard stepped through the door.

Sabjorn smiled, and it was a smile so fake, Auriel had to wonder that he didn't break something.

"Well, Sabjorn," the Captain said. "Now that you've taken care of your little pest problem, how about I get a taste of some of your mead?"

"Help yourself, milord," Sabjorn replied smoothly. "It's my finest brew yet. I call it Honnigbrew Reserve. I think you'll find it quite pleasing to your palate."

The damp Altmer stifled a snickered at how pretentious that sounded, and the more overt snort of the Captain suggested that he agreed.

"This is mead," he shook his head a little. "Not some wine to be sipped and savored!"

Three pairs of eyes watched with various levels of anticipation as the captain poured himself a mug and quickly drained it dry. Auriel kept her expression strictly neutral as he immediately started coughing and hacking.

"What... what's in this?" the Captain demanded as Sabjorn hurried over to him anxiously.

"I... I don't know," Sabjorn said. "What's wrong?"

"You assured me this place was _clean_," the captain growled, shaking his head muzzily. "I'll see... see to it that you remain in irons for the rest of your days!"

"No, please, I don't understand," Sabjorn protested, raising his hands.

"Silence idiot!" The captain snapped. "I should have known better than to trust this place after its been riddled with filth."

"I beg you, please!" Sabjorn tried again. "This is not what it seems!"

The captain wasn't interested in listening. He clapped a pair of cuffs around Sabjorns wrists, then looked over at Mallus.

"You... You're in charge here until I can sort this all out," he ordered.

"It will be my pleasure," Mallus murmured, nodding his head a little.

"And you," the captain turned back to Sabjorn, who cringed visibly. "You're coming with me to Dragonsreach. We'll see how quickly your memory clears in the city's prisons. Now.." he belched, and grimaced. "M-move!"

Sabjorn looked about to protest, when Auriel deliberately drew his attention by scuffing her cup slightly. She smiled a knowing smile, and the meadery owner gaped in shock, allowing the captain to shove him bodily out the door.

"Farewell Sabjorn," Mallus smirked.

Auriel got languorously to her feet, then stalked over to Mallus.

"I don't think that could've gone any better," he grinned smugly. "Anything else you need before you head back to Riften?"

"I need a look at Sabjorn's books. And _you _need to inform me as to why I was not told about that madman beneath the meadery," she snapped.

"Maven wants to hunt down Sabjorn's private partner, huh? You're welcome to look around his office; keeps most of his stuff stashed in his desk. Here's the key," He handed it to her, then cleared his throat a bit as her sharp look intensified. "I thought it would be better to leave some details out of our previous discussion. Didn't want to risk you walking away from the job."

"...so instead you risk my ability to survive someone who was trained at the College of Winterhold, instead of giving me this information so that I could have been prepared and countered him without having to waste a good number of potions and arrows attempting to avoid him! Because _that_ makes more sense," she said acidly.

He cringed a little, and Auriel shook her head impatiently.

"Sorry?" he offered after a moment. "But you did survive, and now you done us both a favor. I won't have to hire the coin to get rid of him, and I'm willing to help fence some goods if you're in the area again..."

She snorted her annoyance and went upstairs to go through Sabjorn's things.

Auriel didn't tear the room apart, but she was not above lifting the valuable items she found lying around. And in the desk, as promised, she found another note with the same symbol as was on the deed to Goldenglow. She took the time to scrutinize it closer, but still couldn't make heads or tails of it. A dagger on a drop of black... or perhaps a figure with their arms crossed over their chest. Possibly even a stylized eye, depending on how one looked at it.

She sighed a little, and put it in one of her inner pockets. Maven would no doubt want it, and leaving it behind wouldn't do her any favors.

The long trip back gave her the chance to think about it well, cross referencing the design with the _many_ different symbols she recalled from her years as a spy. Her own had been a golden spiral flame symbol; one that would never be used again...

Maven was waiting in the same spot at the Bee and Barb, and Auriel put on her best professionally neutral expression.

"I trust you have good news for me?" the Black-Briar matron inquired.

"Job's done. Here's the extra information you wanted."

Auriel handed her the paper, and Maven flipped it open impatiently.

"This doesn't tell me much," she snapped. "The only thing that could identify Sabjorn's partner is this odd little symbol!"

"Mmm. That's a symbol I've seen once before," Auriel said quietly.

"Well, whomever this mysterious marking represents, they're _regret_ starting a war with me," Maven said coldly. "You should bring this information to the Thieves Guild immediately. There's also the matter of your payment. I believe you'll find this more than adequate for your services."

She handed over a small bag that clinked gently, and Auriel bowed slightly as she accepted it. Then she turned, left, and went to slip back into the Guild's hideout.


	14. Thirteen: Shadows among us

Thirteen:

Shadows among us.

"Word on the street is that poor Sabjorn's found himself in Whiterun's prison. How unfortunate for him," Brynjolf greeted her, sitting next to her as she soaked her aching feet in the cold waters of the cistern.

"Yet very fortunate for Maven," Auriel said absently.

"Exactly," he nodded. "Now you're beginning to see how our little system works. Maven sent word that you discovered something else while you were out there. Something important to the Guild?"

"The symbol on the Goldenglow sale deed was the same as the one found with Sabjorn's things," she sighed a little.

"Then this is beyond coincidence," he frowned. "First Aringoth and now Sabjorn. Someone's trying to take us down by-"

"By driving a wedge between Maven, the Guild's biggest financial backer, and the Guild itself," Auriel said brusquely. "Yes, I caught onto that while on the ride here. It wasn't terribly subtle. The question that comes to mind is as straightforward; now that we know, what can we do?"

"Mercer thinks he has a way to identify this new thorn in our side. He'd like to meet with you right away," he hesitated, then lightly nudged her shoulder. "And if I were you, I'd hurry. I've never seen him this angry before."

Auriel muttered a few choice Aldmeri curses that had Brynjolf stifling a laugh, and pulled her feet out of the water, drying them on a nearby towel before putting her socks and boots back on. Then, reluctantly, she went to find Mercer Frey.

She found him at his desk, bent over what looked to be an accounting book.

"Ah, there you are," he said, glancing up at her. "I've consulted my contacts on the information you picked up from Goldenglow estate, but no one can identify that symbol."

"Unfortunately, they seem to be expanding," she replied neutrally. "I found the same symbol on the paper Maven asked me to get from Honningbrew Meadery."

"It would seem our adversary is attempting to take us apart indirectly by angering Maven Black-Briar. Very clever."

"Perhaps we should recruit them," Auriel said dryly.

"You jest, but they've been able to avoid identification for years," he growled. "They're obviously well-funded, driven, and patient. Don't mistake my admiration for complacency. Our nemesis is going to pay dearly."

"How?"

"Because even after all the posturing and planning, they've made a mistake," he smirked. "The parchment you recovered mentions a 'Galjul-Lei.' According to my sources, that's an old alias used by one of our contacts. His _real_ name is Gulum-Ei. Slimy bastard."

It was an Argonian name, and Auriel nodded slightly, though she didn't quite agree with Mercer on the 'slimy' bit. Argonians weren't frogs.

"And what are you asking me to do?"

"Gulum-Ei is our inside man in the East Empire Company in Solitude," Mercer said. "I'm betting that he acted as a go-between for Goldenglow Estate, and he can finger our buyer. Get out there, shake him down, and get that information. Talk to Brynjolf if you have any other questions."

She nodded, and left him to his work, moving across the cistern to lean against the wall near where Byrnjolf was lazing.

"So, tell me about Gulum-Ei," she said idly.

"I can't believe that idiot's mixed up in all this," Brynjolf shook his head slightly. "That Argonian couldn't find his tail with both hands. Don't get me wrong; he can scam a beggar out of his last spetim, but he's no mastermind."

She snorted a little, and nudged him lightly with her foot.

"Apparently this time he did," she said archly. "You think he'll give me any trouble?"

"Trouble?" He snorted a little, pushing her foot away. "He's one of the most stubborn lizards I've ever met. You'll have your work cut out for you."

"Then suggest a way for me to get him to talk."

"You'll have to buy him off," he sighed. "It's the only way to get his attention. If that fails, follow him and see what he's up to. Knowing Gulum-Ei, he's in over his head, and you can use that as leverage."

She nodded thoughtfully, tipping her head a little in thought.

"While I generally find it a bad idea to leave a betrayer alive, I suppose that's what I should do?" she asked after a minute. "How will we make him pay for it, then?"

"With his fingers in the East Empire Company's pie, we'll make use of the debt sparing his life will cause," Bryn smirked a little up at her. "For now, stay on his tail, and he's bound to step into something he can't scrape off his boot."

"Ruin my fun," she sighed a little.

"I can think of other ways to have fun, lass," Brynjolf's smirk widened slightly.

She raised an eyebrow, then snorted a little.

"Safe place, _private_ place, and use my name, and _maybe_ I'll consider it," she retorted, nudging him again with her foot. "I'm not looking forward to this ride all the way to Solitude... That's what... two weeks in a cart?"

"Something like that," He chuckled a little. "You could always walk or ride a horse. Pretty thing like you would no doubt be able to get a free one at that."

She frowned down at him.

"I pay gold for horses, just like any sensible person," she replied tartly. "Don't mistake me for what I am not."

He held up his hands quickly.

"Easy lass, it was only a joke."

"Well it wasn't terribly funny," she snapped.

She pushed off the wall, ready to leave, when he reached up and handed her a bottle of Black-Briar mead. As she had started to become fond of the drink, she accepted the bribe after a few minutes of consideration; it really was quite lovely stuff, after all.

"Walking would take too long anyways," he said after a moment, as she sipped the mead. "I get the feeling that Mercer wants this handled as quickly as possible. You could always take a cushion with you."

"I sit on my cloak," she admitted. "At least, I do when it's not raining or snowing. Bloody Skyrim."

He laughed, and she smiled, albeit reluctantly.

"You are a mystery, lass," he said, a teasing note in face and voice as he looked up at her. "A lovely Altmer lady, this far north, trying to set the Guild to rights. What else will you do before much longer, I wonder?"

"That's for me to know, and you to never guess," she replied lightly. "My thanks for the mead. Try not to get yourself killed while I'm gone."

He snorted in amusement, and Auri left the cistern to find herself a ride to Solitude.

Two weeks in an open-air cart, traveling through the cold of the Eastmarch, the temperate air of Whiterun, and the mugginess of Hjalmarch until she reached the Haafingar area wreaked havoc on her immune system. It may have been just a cold, but it was a pesky thing, complete with headache, raspy cough, and a nose that wouldn't stop running. She generally didn't _get_ sick, but bad weather had followed her almost the entire way from the Rift, and there were few enough towns with a decent alchemic set-up for her to make or buy something that would help it go away. She spent the first two days back in Solitude recovering at the Winking Skeever inn, much to her irritation.

The cough had not gone away entirely, but she no longer needed to sniffle on every third or fourth intake of air, which meant—to her—that she could meet Gulum-Ei and find out what she would need to grease his palms to get him to talk. She found the Argonian at the inn itself, down in the common room, in a little room off to the side of the main one, watching the comings and goings of the people within.

"So, what do we have here, hmm?" he asked lazily as she approached him. "By your scent, I'd say you're from the Guild. But that can't be true because I told Mercer I wouldn't deal with them anymore."

"It's cute that you think you can do that," she replied tartly. "I'm here about Goldenglow Estate."

"I don't deal in land or property," he lied easily. "Now if you're looking for _goods_, you've come to the right person."

"Don't try to play me for a fool, Gajul-Lei," she said silkily.

"Oh... wait... did you say Goldenglow Estate?" He smiled a little, sheepish. "My apologies. I'm sorry to say I know very little about that... bee farm, was it?"

"For something you know very little about, you certainly didn't hesitate in acting as the broker for it," she replied mildly.

"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. I can be expected to remember _every_ deal I handle."

She shook her head a little.

"And what would improve your memory?"

"Well, now that you mention it, there _is_ something I've been trying to get my hands on," Gulum-Ei mused. "I have a buyer looking for a case of Firebrand Wine. There happens to be a single case of it in the Blue Palace. Bring it to me, and we can talk about the Estate."

She nodded a little, and went to fetch the wine. It was hardly a challenge; the case was tucked away on a table not far from the entrance, and out of eyesight of any of the guards. In truth, it was child's play to lift it and bring it back to the Argonian, and she did it in under half an hour. Most of that had been travel time, simply walking through the city on her errand.

"Here," she set the case on the table. "Now, is your memory improved?"

"It is indeed. I was approached about being the broker by a woman, who mentioned it would be something big. She flashed a bag of gold in my face, and said all I had to do was pay Aringoth for the estate. I brought him the coin, and walked away with her copy of the deed."

"I suppose she didn't say what this was about," Auriel murmured.

"Not a word. And of course, I tend not to ask many questions while on the job. However... I did notice she was quite angry, and it was being directed at Mercer Frey. Now, since this transaction is done, I'd best be on my way."

He was still holding something back; the tells were obvious if one knew how to spot them. He didn't _quite_ meet her eyes, and the casual tone of his voice carried a note of being slightly forced. She moved aside to let him pass, waited a few minutes, then slipped out of the inn and trailed him discretely.

He led her out of the city, and down to the port where the EEC warehouse was. After a point trying to blend became useless, and Auriel resorted to her invisibility spell. The warehouse itself was badly lit, and filled with guards who paid no attention to the Argonian, and never even saw her; she stuck to the shadows, silent as a wraith, and followed the Argonian to a hidden series of tunnels. They were separate enough from the warehouse, and filled with bandits, who also ignored him. They missed her completely, much to their detriment, as she kept to her rule of no enemies at her back. Arrows and knowledge of anatomy really were useful at times.

When she caught up to him, she slipped up behind him and laid a dagger to his throat; he didn't need to know that she wasn't going to kill him, after all. He froze, wise enough to not go for his own weapon when she was already so close.

"Now then, how much has your memory improved now?" she asked sweetly.

"I was gonna tell Mercer about everything!" he babbled. "Please! It's not as bad as it seems!"

She removed the dagger, pleased that it wouldn't take any effort.

"Who says Mercer needs to know?"

He turned and stared at her, not hiding the fact that she had scared him badly.

"I see you wish to be reasonable... perhaps I misjudged you. The name of the person you want... is Karliah."

The way he said it made her pause. He seemed to expect her to _know_ the name. She vaguely recalled it from one of the numerous reports on activities in Skyrim, but recalled very little; it hadn't been her duty at the time.

"And she is?"

"Mercer never told you about her?" he asked, incredulously.

"Mercer doesn't tell me much. We... are not friends."

Gulum-Ei shook his head a little.

"Karliah is the thief responsible for murdering the previous Guild Master, Gallus. Now she's after Mercer."

That certainly was interesting news; Auriel raised an eyebrow lightly, folding her arms across her chest.

"And you're helping her?"

"Help?" He shook his head rapidly. "No, no! I didn't even know it was her until _after_ she contacted me. Please, you have to believe me!"

"Relax, I have no interest in their personal vendetta," she shrugged a little. "Can you tell me where she is now?"

"I don't know. When I asked her where she was going, she just muttered 'Where the end began.' Here, take the Goldenglow Estate deed as proof! And when you speak to Mercer, tell him I'm worth more alive!"

"You've been very helpful," she smiled a little, patting the Argonian lightly on the head like a well-behaved dog. "I don't think Mercer will take out a contract on you."

He shuddered and walked off, likely to swim in the canal and calm down. She chuckled a little to herself, pleased that he was afraid, and raided what she could from the various things that had been stored away.

She was sick again by the time she returned to the Guild, though this time it was mostly the fault of the stopover she'd been forced to make in Windhelm. A snowstorm had blocked her path, and she'd been forced to wait it out at the inn there. It had done nothing for her cold except make it worse; a rough cough briefly stole her voice away, and left her exhausted. Mercer had looked at her and told her to go rest up somewhere else instead of getting the rest of them sick.

Brynjolf helped her to his own small flat, much to her surprise, and didn't seem to mind taking care of her either when her fever raged high. He tended to her for about a week, and when she was coherent, she wondered what he was angling for. Finally though, her fever subsided, and her cough faded. Her voice returned, though it took a few days more before she was capable of holding a conversation.

"...did I say anything while I was delirious?" she asked.

"Oh, this and that. Mostly things about your old family. Magic lessons from your da, alchemy lessons from another person. Somethin' about the Oblivion Crisis, but I couldn't really make sense of it, lass. Oh, and something about Saarthal. Were you one of the mages involved in that mess?"

"Unfortunately."

"Did the College _really_ blow up?"

She chuckled a little roughly, and shook her head slightly.

"No, but it was a near thing. We had to replace the Arch-Mage after, though."

"I take it you got the job," he smirked at her a little.

"I did," she nodded. "At some point I'll need to head back up there, I expect, and check in on everything. Make sure they didn't blow things up while I was away and all that."

He laughed, and she shrugged, a wry smile on her face.

"Don't worry lass. Tam. I'll keep it to myself."

Auriel raised an eyebrow at him over her stew, then snorted a little.

"Blackmail and extortion?"

He grinned a little.

"Entirely plausible. But also because we're members of the same guild, and independent thievery or not, we've all got to look out for one another. Also, because I'm entirely curious about the mystery you present, and I want to know more."

"Hmm, well, that's going to be a while. I still have a few more plans to make before I can share my reasons for anything."

"I'm a patient man," he replied with a confident shrug. "I expect it'll be somethin worth hearin about too."

"...you have _no_ idea, Bryn," she sighed a little.

"And you have no energy left," the Nord pointed out with a grin. "Come on. Back to bed with you. Mercer wants you back in top shape before you give him all your information."

She rolled her eyes, and obligingly went.

It took her a few more days before she felt healthy enough to visit Mercer. It would have been less, but she had allowed herself to be talked into an interlude with the red-haired Nord. He'd been gentle, and it had been nice... but both of them knew at the end that the chemistry just wasn't right. They agreed that they made better partners and friends than bedfellows.

Mercer, when she finally reported in, had the look of a harried man, and he glared at her like her illness was her fault.

"Did Gulum-Ei give up any information on our buyer?" he demanded.

"Indeed. He said Goldenglow was purchased by a woman named Karliah."

She was treated to the sight of a shocked Mecer griping his desk tightly to stay upright, and smiled inwardly. She didn't doubt that whatever secret Mercer carried, it had to do with this unknown woman.

"No..." he voice was low, rough with a variety of emotions. "It... it can't be... I haven't heard that name in decades."

Auriel waited patiently for him to regain his control; no point in antagonizing him, after all. After a minute he shook his head and visibly pulled himself back together.

"This is grave news indeed... she's someone I'd hoped to never cross paths with _again_."

"I was told that she killed your previous master," she said, allowing a note of curiosity to creep into her voice.

"Karliah destroyed everything this guild stood for! She murdered my predecessor in cold blood and betrayed the Guild! After we discovered what she'd done, we spent months trying to track her down... but she'd just vanished..."

Auril studied him; he was lying. He was lying and he didn't seem to realize she could tell. Well, this would prove interesting then, wouldn't it?

"What would bring her back now?"

"Karliah and I were like partners. We worked together on every heist, we watched each other's backs. I know her techniques, her skill. If she kills me, there's no one left who could _possibly_ catch her."

A failed relationship? Auriel considered the idea, then discarded it; his voice held something more like jealousy than hurt or anger.

"If only we knew where she was..." he hissed, glaring down at the desk.

"Mmm... Gulum-Ei said that she was at the place 'where the end began.'"

His head jerked up, and he stared at her with intense eyes. She looked back, keeping her expression neutral. It was interesting watching his mind work; he was planning something...

"There's only one place that could be. The place where she murdered Gallus. A ruin called Snow Veil Sanctum, up in Winterhold. We have to go out there before she disappears again."

"...'we'...?"

"Yes. I'll go with you, and together we'll kill her. Here's you payment for Solitude. Gear up and meet me at the ruins as fast as possible. We _can't_ let her slip through our fingers!"

He shoved a bag of coin at her, and hurried off. Auriel frowned, and went to talk with Brynjolf. He was seated by the cistern, watching a couple of the other thieves shooting at targets, but looked up, concern on his face at her approach.

"You're going after Karliah?" he demanded quietly as she sat next to him.

"Apparently. Mercer insisted that I go."

"Karliah's bad news, Tam," Brynjolf said insistently. "You should have more than just the two of you after her. What is Mercer thinking? He's going to get you _both_ killed."

"Tell me about what happened between Mercer Frey, Karliah, and Gallus," she said after a minute.

"No one is really certain," he said. "They were close, practically inseparable. Karliah and Gallus more-so than Karliah and Mercer, but where one went, the others tended to follow. They all went up north for some reason, and Mercer was the only one to come back. He said Karliah had killed Gallus, and had nearly killed him too."

"...it doesn't much sound like she was allowed to give her side of the story," Auriel observed quietly.

"She ran away and hid like a coward," Brynjolf snorted contemptuously. "That speaks for itself."

"No, it actually doesn't. Think about it Brynjolf, you're smarter than the average Nord. If you were accused of something you hadn't done, a threat of death held over your head if you showed your face to old companions, what would you do?"

She felt him studying her, and mentally grimaced; she was in a similar situation, and she had to admit, her view of said situation was mildly colored by her personal dislike of Mercer.

"...maybe you're right," he said after a long moment of silence. "But it'll be hard to convince the others of such a thing. Gallus was a well-loved and highly respected Guild leader... If she didn't kill him, that would mean..."

Auriel shrugged lightly and sighed, patting his shoulder lightly as she got to her feet.

"Just keep in mind that every story has multiple sides, Bryn. Sometimes, you don't get the choice or chance to explain yourself."

"Lass," he reached up and caught her hand, making her glance back down at him. "Be _extra_ careful."

"I'll try."


	15. Fourteen: Karliah

Fourteen:

Karliah

Auriel didn't rush to Snow Veil Sanctum. She made sure all of her gear was in working order first, found her cold-weather clothes that would fit under her armor, and made sure he cloak was up to snuff against the icy winds of Winterhold. She also stopped by the College, checking in on it. She was pleased to find it still in one piece, and spent a day going through numerous missives that had piled up in her absence. Tolfdir helped her with some of it, and she took no small amount of glee in dictating a note to the Thalmor Embassy explaining that she would _not_ accept another Thalmor agent as her adviser.

She didn't quite make an overt threat, but saying that the college could look after itself, thank you, was entirely too pleasing.

In truth, she half-hoped that Mercer's problem would have solved itself by the time she got there, but her luck was not quite that good. He met her outside the Sanctum, looking irritable, but unharmed.

"You're finally here," he grumbled. "Took you long enough. I've scouted the ruins, and I'm certain Karliah's still inside."

"You saw her then?"

"No, I found her horse. I took care of it, and she won't be using _that_ to escape on. Now let's get moving. I wanna catch her inside while she's distracted. You lead."

"...I see. Very well."

"Just make certain that you keep your eyes open. Karliah is as sharp as a blade. The last thing I need is you blundering into a trap and warning her that we're here."

Auriel snorted a little, and shook her head. He was making her be his shield; annoying bastard. Still, it did little good to argue, and would likely only make him suspicious. So she obligingly led the way... for all of thirty feet.

"...Mercer, the door is locked and barred."

"Hmph. Move out of the way, amateur."

She bristled a little at the insult, but stepped aside.

"They say that these ancient Nordic burial mounds are sometimes impenetrable. This one doesn't look to difficult..."

He approached the door, and smirked, lifting his chin as he bent to work at the lock. She couldn't _see_ what his hands were doing, but she had the feeling that somehow, in some way, he was cheating.

"Quite simple really," he said boastfully. "I don't know what the fuss is about these locks. All it takes is a bit of know how, and a lot of skill." He fiddled with it briefly, then moved back. "That should do it. After you."

She would have been quite happy to go invisible and lose him entirely, but if she did that, she wouldn't find out what was going on. And she wanted to know. So she led the way silently. Mercer was not so quiet.

"Ugh, the stench in here," he grumbled. "This place smells of death. Be on your guard."

She rolled her eyes, and mentally shook her head. It was a tomb; what _else_ was it meant to smell like?

The first room seemed clear enough; Karliah hadn't touched the typical treasures left in the various urns, so Auriel took those. Two draugr were child's play, and burned quite nicely.

"Pull the chain over there," Mercer pointed as they entered the next room, "and watch out for the spikes. Looks like Karliah reset all the traps."

Karliah, Auriel decided, was a very clever woman. That sounded like something she herself would do, actually. It would make things difficult for pursuers.

She found herself having to admit that despite whatever she felt about him personally, Mercer's fighting abilities were nothing to sneeze at. He was very good with his blades, and she decided that she would rather not try and cross weapons with him. No, if it came down to it, she's slap three runes on his back so fast he wouldn't be able to react, and if he survived, _then_ she would try and take him on.

They continued in, and she let him handle most of the fighting; if he wanted to use her for a shield, he could take on the draugr without her help. He was the one who kept waking them up, after all.

The paused briefly outside a room, and he peered warily through the doorway..

"Bone chimes," he said after a minute. "Clever. Rigged to wake the draugr, I'd bet. Don't blunder in to any of them."

Auriel gave him an openly disgusted look, walked in, looked at him, and deliberately swatted it. He swore at her sharply as draugr attacked, then swore again as she cast a flame cloak, and lit every last one of them on fire.

"_Do_ stop treating me like a rank amateur," she sniffed. "I know more than you think."

She turned on her heel and slipped down the hall before he could say anything, and let out a slow breath. She probably shouldn't have let her temper get away, even that little bit, but she was so _tired_ of being treated like a beginner.

The next room was rather _full_ of draugr, and she was quite willing to take out her lingering irritation on them. It was so much _fun_ watching them scurry around while on fire, after all.

Mercer looked around at the dead bodies and scowled a little.

"Karliah's always been a nimble minx. Slipping past these draugr must've been child's play for her."

"As it should be," she said coolly. "A mer is far more light of foot than a human."

He looked almost like he wanted to protest, then grimaced and chose to say nothing. Which was good, because while the fire had tempered her some, she was rapidly becoming tired of him, and considered just killing him herself to save time.

There were more draugr beyond, but they looked to be asleep... until Auriel opened a door that Karliah had booby-trapped. Impressed as she was that this woman hadn't been caught for however long she'd been running, she was starting to get a little annoyed. But only a little, as she had no doubts on her own score; she would have set even more elaborate traps.

"We're on the right track," Mercer muttered at they stepped clear of the bodies and traps. "She's been through here as well."

The Altmer mage forwent a sarcastic response, and kept going. After another short hallway, Mercer reached out and caught her arm.

"That door up ahead... looks perfect for hiding an ambush. Be ready."

Karliah had piled jars ahead of the door. Despite how gently Auriel moved it, they still woke up the draugr. She hung back this time, letting Mercer deal with them. They didn't surprise her half as much as the unexpected word wall, and the word she learned, though she didn't fully understand it, made her smirk. She could, she sensed, use this one to forcefully disarm someone. That would _definitely_ come in handy.

Beyond that room came a door that Auriel assumed would thoroughly stymie them; a claw lock. They had neither claw, nor combination.

"Ah, it's one of the infamous Nordic puzzle door," Mercer sighed. "How quaint. Without the matching claw they're normally impossible to open. And since I'm certain Karliah already did away with it, we're on our own."

He approached, and bent, shifting so that Auriel couldn't see, again, what he was doing with his hands.

"Fortunately, these doors have a weakness, it you know how to exploit it. Quite simple really..." He fiddled with it briefly, and to her surprise, it started sinking into the ground. "Karliah's close, I'm _certain_ of it. Let's get moving."

Auriel hesitated, looking carefully into the room beyond from where she was standing. She couldn't _see_ anyone, but she was willing to bet that someone was indeed in there. It was the best place for an ambush. Gingerly she stepped into the room, slipped forward, and then fell as the arrow slammed into her shoulder. Poison slid through her, and her vision faded out.

She regained partial consciousness after a few minutes, in time to witness Karliah confronting Mercer. Her vision wasn't clear enough to make out features, and her whole body had been numbed by whatever had been on Karliah's arrow. Trying to move did nothing. All she could do was watch.

"Do you honestly think your arrow will reach me before my blade finds your heart?" he sneered.

"Give me a reason to try," Karliah snapped, bow in hand.

"You're a clever girl, Karliah," Mercer said. "Buying Goldenglow Estate and funding Honnigbrew Meadery was inspired."

"'To ensure an enemies defeat, you must first undermine his allies.' It was the first lesson Gallus taught us."

"You always were a quick study," he grumbled.

"Not quick enough," Karliah replied. Auriel could hear the regret under the anger in her soft voice "Otherwise Gallus would still be alive."

"Gallus had his wealth and he had _you_," Mercer snapped. "All he had to do was look the other way..."

If she could have, Auriel would have smirked. So she'd been partially right; Mercer had been jealous of Gallus, and desired Karliah. Motives for murder weren't always so straightforward, but this one clearly was.

"Did you forget the Oath we took as Nightingales?"Karliah asked. "Did you expect him to simply _ignore_ your methods?"

"Enough of this mindless banter!" He shot back. "Come, Karliah. It's time for you and Gallus to be reunited!"

He drew his sword and started for her; Karliah quickly vanished.

"I'm not fool, Mercer," she said, her voice moving away. "Crossing blades with you would be a death sentence. But I can promise the next time we meet, it will be your undoing."

He lowered his blades, and approached Auriel, still silently fighting to get some measure of feeling back into her body. Everything was numbed and refused to listen to her. He smirked down at her.

"How interesting... It appears Gallus's history has repeated itself. Karliah has provided me the means to be rid of you, and this tomb will be your final resting place. But you know what intrigues me the most?" He knelt down, dagger in hand. "That this was all possible because of you. Farewell. I'll be certain to give Brynjolf your regards."

She mentally cursed, and prayed; this was no way to die! She managed a choked cry as he stabbed her, and then the blackness surrounded her. She honestly didn't expect to wake up again, with the snow stinging her face and ears, but she did. Feeling flooded into her body and she lunged to her feet, then pressed a hand to her chest with a pained hiss.

"Easy, easy," Karliah cautioned, moving in to support her. "Don't get up so quickly. His dagger nearly pierced your heart. How are you feeling?"

"Woozy," Auriel grimaced a little. "Angry. You shot me..."

"No, I saved your life. My arrow was tipped with a unique paralytic poison. It slowed your heart and kept you from bleeding out. Had I _intended_ to kill you, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"...Fair enough," Auriel sighed and Karliah helped her to sit again. "I suppose you didn't save me out of the goodness of your heart though. So why?"

"My original intention was to use that arrow on Mercer, but I never had a clear shot," Karliah sighed. "I made a split-second decision to get you out of the way, and it prevented your death."

"...I think you should have shot Mercer instead," Auriel grimaced a little, rubbing at the bound wounds.

"I promise you, that thought did cross my mind. The poison on that arrow took me a _year_ to perfect; I only had enough for that one shot. All I had hoped was to capture Mercer alive..."

Auriel's eyebrows went up.

"Alive?"

"Mercer must be brought before the Guild to _pay_ for what he's done. He has to answer for Gallus's murder."

"Ah. Somehow, I expected this was the case," Auriel nodded, then winced again. "He may think he's a good liar, but I've seen better. So, with Mercer gone, likely to spread the word that you've now killed me as well, what happens?"

"My purpose in luring him here wasn't simply for irony's sake," Karliah replied. "Before both of you arrived, I recovered a journal form Gallus' remains. I expect the information we need is written inside."

"...and you haven't read it?"

"It's written in a language I've never seen before," the Dunmer admitted with a pained sigh.

"So we need it translated," Auriel nodded. "Perhaps at the College..."

"...Enthir... Gallus' friend at the College of Winterhold!" Karliah brightened a little. "Of course!"

Auriel snorted, and a faint smile crossed her own face; Enthir was one of the College teachers, and the word was that he could procure many items that weren't entirely legal. He was also one of the foremost scholars on language, and generally if he didn't know it, it was long lost.

"He's the only outsider Gallus trusted with the knowledge of his Nightingale identity," Karliah continued, eagerness flickering in her purple eyes.

"...you're going to have to explain that one to me," Auriel said, head cocked slightly in curiosity. "The only nightingale I know of is a bird, but I gather that this is something else..."

"There were three of us," the Dunmer said slowly. "Myself, Gallus, and Mercer. We were an anonymous splinter of the Thieves Guild in Riften. Perhaps I'll tell you more about it later. Right now, you should head to Winterhold with the journal, and see if Enthir can't translate it."

"You're staying here?" Auriel asked.

"Only briefly. I'll catch up, after I make a few preparations, and lay Gallus' remains to rest," Karliah said quietly. "I owe him that much."

"...all right. I'm Auriel, by the way. Arch-Mage to the College, Tam to the Guild."

She met Karliah's eyes steadily, and after a moment the Dunmer nodded. They shared a very similar path, and Auriel could easily see herself in Karliah's place if she didn't get this mess with the Thalmor cleared up. She didn't relish the thought. So she pushed to her feet, and started off into the cold. Fortunately, Mercer hadn't had the forethought to take her things, so she arrived only mildly frozen, and fairly irritable.

Enthir was at the inn when she finally made it back to Winterhold, drinking a mug of warmed mead. He stared at her in surprise as she sat down on the bench with him, shedding snow and icy air.

"Arch-Mage, you look like you've been stabbed," he said after a minute.

"I was," she retorted.

It was blunt enough to silence him briefly, and in that time she pushed Gallus' journal at him.

"Can you tell me what language this is? It belonged to a friend of yours, Gallus."

His eyes widened, and he immediately flipped the journal open.

"Karliah found it then... Oh, this is just like Gallus," he sighed. "A dear friend, but occasionally too clever for his own good... He's written it all in the Falmer language."

"The Falmer have a language?" Auriel blinked in surprise.

"They do... or rather, they did. When they weren't the vicious abominations they are now," Enthir said sourly.

"...so, can you translate it?"

"Unfortunately, no," he shook his head a little. "However, I know someone who might. If you've ever been to Markarth, the court wizard there, Calcelmo, may have what we need to get it translated. Unfortunately, he's a fierce guard of his work, and getting that won't be easy. I'm sure you could impress it out of him, however."

"Enthir, were I not already in enough pain, I would consider smacking you for that insinuation," she said tartly.

The male Altmer chuckled a little.

"Apologies, Arch-Mage. Perhaps you should have that looked at by Colette," he suggested. "Especially if you're going to be making this long journey for Karliah."

"...perhaps I should," she sighed. "At least then It would hurt less, even if it will be forever awkward to explain how I got this particular scar."

"You survived it," he grinned a little. "That's good enough, yeah?"

"Enthir, you sound like a Nord."

He laughed again, and she half-smiled, then got to her feet.

She spent another day at the College, after getting Colette to take care of the injury, then took a long walk, and a longer carriage ride to the city of Markarth. It was an ancient city, built into old Dwemer ruins. Everywhere one looked, there was evidence of the long-vanished dwarves.

Calcelmo, as Enthir had been, was an Altmer. He wasn't friendly either, and refused to share his notes, even after she took care of the irritating spider, Nihme. Still, it got her into his Dwemer museum, and from there she was able to slip on through, up to his chambers. Avoiding the guards was simple enough, and she found a stone Calcemo had clearly been translating from. There was enough paper and charcoal around to make several decent rubbings. Getting _out_ was a little trickier, but she managed to slip past the guards, and then took a shortcut by jumping into the waterfall pool below. It wasn't terribly _pleasant_, but it was quick, and with the papers wrapped in waterproofing, they weren't even the slightest bit damaged.

She spent the trip back to the College studying the notes, committing the language to her memory as best she could. It had the potential to be useful in a variety of ways, especially if she made a variant or two that would make it known only to those whom she gave the key.

At the very least, it was worth a try.

Karliah had joined Enthir by the time she reached Winterhold again, and both were his room, which was a good portion of the inn's basement.

"Back, eh?" Enthir smiled at her. "And how was our friend Calcelmo?"

"As reluctant as ever to share his work," she shrugged. "But I got my hands on it anyways. In a manner of speaking. Here."

And she passed over the numerous rubbings she'd made. Enthir blinked a little in surprise.

"I suppose it would be inappropriate of me to ask how you obtained this, so I won't. Though I will admit, I expected notes."

"...it's a long story."

"I'd love to hear it sometime. Now, let's see..."

Enthir took the pages to the table, and moved a lantern closer for better light. Karliah and Auriel both moved in curiously. He studied the rubbings, then flipped through Gallus' journal, a frown crossing his face.

"Hmm... this is intriguing, but highly disturbing," he murmured. "It appears that Gallus had suspicions about Mercer Frey's allegiance to the Guild for _months._ Galls had begun to uncover what he called an '...unduly lavish lifestyle, replete with pending vast amounts of gold on personal pleasures.'"

"Does the journal say where this wealth came from?" Karliah asked, her soft voice taking on the faintest note of urgency.

"Yes... Gallus seemed certain that Mercer had been removing funds from the Guild's treasury without anyone knowing."

"Anything else, Enthir?" the Dunmer pressed. "Anything about... the Nightingales?"

"Hmm..." he flipped a few pages carefully, then nodded. "Yes, here it is. These last pages seem to describe 'the failure of the Nightingales' although it doesn't go into great detail. Gallus also repeatedly mentions his strong belief that Mercer desecrated something known as the Twilight Sepulcher."

Karliah drew in a soft breath, and Auriel's eyes widened fractionally. While not a follower of any of the Daedric Princes, she knew well that the Twilight Sepulcher belonged to Nocturnal, that patron of all thieves. It wasn't hard to believe that his desecration was the reason for the Guild's run of bad luck.

"Shadows preserve us," the Dunmer bowed her head slightly. "So it's true..."

"I... I'm not familiar with the Twilight Sepulcher," Enthir said after a moment, looking from one mer to the other. "What is it? What's Mercer Frey done?"

"I'm sorry Enthir, I can't say," Karliah shook her head lightly. "All that matters is that we deliver this translation to the Guild, _immediately_."

She opened her mouth, clearly attempting to say more, and he shook his head a little.

"It's all right, Karliah. You don't have to say a word," he smiled a little awkwardly, then glanced at Auriel.

"Well done," she said quietly. "You have my thanks."

"If you can get her back the respect she so thoroughly deserves, it'll be worth it, Arch-Mage. And, ah... thanks for not being inclined towards tossing me out for my outside connections."

She snorted a little.

"Enthir, I can hardly do that to you without outing myself," she said dryly. "Just do try to not get yourself killed over this information, all right? I'd recommend staying closer to the College until this whole mess with Mercer Frey is sorted."

"That sounds like a good idea. I think I'll do that."

He nodded to her lightly, and left the basement, leaving Karliah and Auriel alone to discuss their plans.

"We must hasten to Riften before Mercer can do any more damage to the Guild," Karliah said insistently.

"First, you have some answers I need," Auriel said, leaning against the table. "Tell me about the Twilight Sepulcher."

"You've come this far, and you've no doubt had some small dealing with Nocturnal before now... very well. There's no point in concealing it. The Twilight Sepulcher is the temple to Nocturnal. It's what the Nightingales are sworn to protect with their lives."

"That seems a bit... mmm... drastic," Auriel observed cautiously.

"Everything that contains Nocturnal's influence is contained within the walls of the Sepulcher. Now it seems that Mercer's broken his oath with Nocturnal and destroyed the very thing he swore to protect."

Auriel cocked her head a little, lightly weaving some of her red hair through her fingers. On the outset, the idea of thieves and temples seemed almost ludicrous, but she had been a spy, and a sneak too long to not understand that connections were often odd things. She could have done with a bit less mystery, but she had the sense that if she waited, all her questions would be answered. After a long moment, she nodded.

"All right. Let's get to this."

"I'll scout Riften, and see if I can find out what Mercer's up to," Karliah nodded. "When you're ready, meet me at the Flagon."

"Don't get killed before I get there," Auriel said dryly. "It's going to be hard enough without having you to help me."

"I think you underestimate your own influence within the Guild," Karliah said, a tiny, sad smile on her face. "As I often did. Here, take this before you go. It once belonged to Gallus, but I think he'd much prefer for you to have it."

She passed over a short sword; Auriel raised her brows, and accepted it, though privately she doubted she would ever use it. Knives and daggers, certainly, but not swords.

"Hopefully the Guild will listen to reason, but if they don't, well..." Karliah shook her head a little. "Keep it close. And pray it won't be necessary."

"Travel safe," Auriel replied, briefly clapping the Dunmer on the shoulder. "I'll see you at the Flagon."


	16. Fifteen: The truth of the matter

Fifteen:

The truth of the matter

The air of the Flagon was tense by the time Auriel caught up with Karliah, and a quick glance around showed that only two of the Guild remained at the drinking den; Tanilia and Dirge. This didn't give the redhead much hope for a welcoming reception. Karliah, nervous but determined, attempted to precede Auriel into the cistern, but the Altmer mage would have none of it.

"If you're the one they want dead, best stay behind me. Brynjolf, at least, will hesitate to kill me. Can't say for certain about the others, but... I know him."

"...I hope you're right," Karliah murmured uncertainly. "I don't want you dying any more than you want me dead. I hope."

Auriel smiled dryly, and pushed open the door. As she'd expected the Guild was not _entirely_ happy to see them. But there was a marked relief in Brynjolf's eyes.

"Why is _she_ here?" he asked, though she could hear less in the way of hostility and more in the way of confusion.

"Because I told you so," Auriel retorted. "We have proof."

"Please," Karliah spoke up from the dubious safety of Auriel's shadow. "Lower your weapons, so we can speak."

"This better not be a trick," he muttered, reluctantly sheathing his dagger.

"Give me _some_ credit Bryn," Auriel snorted, passing over the translated journal. "I learned how to read people long before you were born. This is on the level."

Vex and Delvin shared uncertain looks, then reluctantly imitated Brynjolf, sheathing their weapons and standing down.

"What's this proof then?" Brynjolf asked. "Let me see it."

"Gallus's journal is in your hands," Karliah said softly. "The contents are... disturbing..."

Brynjolf flipped through the translated page, and his jaw tightened noticeably.

"No it... it can't be..." he muttered. "This can't be true. I've known Mercer too long..."

"Mercer brought me to Snow Veil Sanctum with the hopes that Karliah would kill me, or he would get the opportunity, and he almost _did_," Auriel retorted acidly.

"It's true, Brynjolf," Karliah implored. "Mercer's been stealing from the Guild for years, right under your noses."

"There's only one way to find out if it's really true..." Brynjolf turned to Delvin. "I'll need you to open the vault, Delvin."

"Wait just a minute Bryn," the older man protested. "What's in that book? What did it say?"

"It says Mercer's been stealing from our Vault for years. Gallus was looking into it before he was murdered."

"How could Mercer open up a vault that needs two keys?" Delvin snorted. "It's impossible. Not even he could pick that lock... could he?"

"That door has the best puzzle locks money can buy," Vex retorted. "There's no way it can be picked open. I say they're both lying."

"Vex," Brynjolf said sharply. "We're going to open the vault _first_, and then we'll know or not."

"Fine. But I'm keeping my eyes on them whether you like it or not."

Auriel stifled a faintly annoyed sound as they crossed the cistern and Delvin inserted his key into the vault.

"He didn't need to pick the lock," Karliah murmured, in a voice so quiet only Auriel caught it.

Her mind flicked through possibilities, and settled on the only one that made sense; there was more than one version of Nocturnal's skeleton key.

"There," Delvin said. "I've used my key, but the vault's still locked up tighter than a drum. Your turn, Bryn."

Brynjolf stepped forward, and turned his key, then stepped into the vault.

"By the Eight!" he swore. "It's gone, everything's _gone!_ Get in here, all of you!"

They quickly joined him, surveying the vault. Auriel had never seen it full, but this was somewhat pitiful; all that was in there were a few unenchanted low-quality weapons.

"The gold... the jewels! It's all gone," Delvin said incredulously.

"That son-of-a-bitch!" Vex snapped, pulling her dagger out again. "I'll _kill_ him!"

While it was nice to now be believed irrevocably, Auriel couldn't help but shake her head at the hot-headed Imperial woman.

"Vex, put it away," Brynjolf ordered. "Right now. We can't afford to lose our heads. We need to calm down, and focus."

"Spoken like someone with Altmer blood," Auriel said quietly, close enough to him to ensure that the only other person who _might_ hear was Karliah. Brynjolf just snorted at her.

"Do what he says, Vex," Delvin sighed. "This ain't helpin' right now."

"...fine," she snapped, slapping the dagger back into its sheathe impatiently. "We'll do it your way. For _now_."

Brynjolf glanced down at Auriel, who shrugged lightly.

"You two should go watch the Flagon," she said after a moment. "If Mercer shows up, don't engage, just get back in here and let us know."

The two shared a glance, then nodded, and left the vault.

"...takin over for me, lass?" Brynjolf teased lightly after a moment.

"You looked at me like you wanted me to say it," Auriel shrugged blithely. "So I did. Now, we need to track Mercer, before he does anything too... foolish."

"All right, but before I help, can you tell me everything Karliah told you?"

"You trust me, but not her?" Auriel raised an eyebrow.

Brynjolf grimaced a little.

"I haven't spent the past twenty-five years thinking you were the cause of a murder," he pointed out. "So, yes. I do trust you over her."

"Very well. In short, Karliah was behind Goldenglow and Honnigbrew, Mercer killed Gallus, and the three of them were something called Nightingales."

Brynjolf blinked at her.

"Clever of her, trying to make Mercer look bad in front of Maven," he admitted. "And I suspected that was the case. Between your words before you left, and that last entry in Gallus' diary, well... it all matches up too well. But... Nightingales? I always assumed those were just tales, a way to keep young footpads in line."

"Apparently not, though she has not expanded yet on what a Nightingale actually _is_," Auriel sighed.

"Hmm... if that's everything, how would you like to break into Mercer's home, and search for things that might tell us where he's gone?"

"Is his home within Riften?"

"Aye. A gift from the Black-Briars after kicking the previous family out. I think he called it Riftweeld manor... He's never really stayed there, just paid for it's upkeep, and hired some lout named Vold to guard it."

Auriel smiled grimly.

"Yes, I think I'd enjoy that job very much."

Brynjolf rested a hand on her shoulder, leaning in a little. His touch no longer made her uncomfortable, but she still rolled her shoulder lightly to suggest he remove his hand sooner rather than later.

"Be _careful_, Tam," he said quietly. "This is the last place in Skyrim I'd ever want to send you. Just fine the information, and leave. And... well, take out anyone that gets in your way. I'd rather have you safe and alive than anything else."

"...Bryn, if you keep talking like that, people might get the wrong idea," she said dryly.

"I don't care what they think. You're my friend, and probably one of the more honorable thieves I've met. I want you to stay _alive_," he retorted.

"All right. I'll be careful. I promise. In turn, you should do something for me."

He blinked, and she smiled a little, this time lightly removing his hand.

"Make certain that _no one_ tries to kill Karliah. One, she's earned this vengeance, and two, we're likely going to need her to get to Mercer."

He thought about it, then nodded.

"All right, Tam. I'll keep an eye on her."

"Do more than that," Auriel said, her voice quiet, and insistent. "_Talk_ to her. Let her explain herself. You owe her that much."

He grimaced, and sighed.

"I can't... promise that, but... well, I'll try."

"You'd better." Auriel was quiet for a moment, though she took note of the concerned look he gave her. "She deserves better than what the Guild has given her. She's earned the right to come home."

"...aye... I suppose she has."

He sighed a little and ran a hand through his hair, then turned and walked out of the vault. Auriel watched as he caught up, reluctantly, to Karliah, and her startled reaction to it. A faint smile crossed her face, and she headed for the exit. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

She took care of Vold the easy way, shooting him through the gate before she picked the lock. Then she went through his pouches to find the house key. She had to lower an odd contraption that blocked the way in to the second floor, as the door on the main floor was blocked, but after that, it was easy enough.

Mercer's house wasn't terribly impressive to her; she'd seen better. If anything, it reminded her of the Thieves Guild back in Cyrodiil. Just, minus her fellow thieves, and plus a few guards. In the interest of not burning the house down, she stuck with her bow, and it wasn't long before there were a few more bodies. She figured the house would start to stink eventually, but until then, no one was likely to notice.

A false wardrobe led her down into the basement of the house, which looked like it connected to the tunnels of the Ratway. Or at least the sewer. The number of traps on the floor were ridiculous, but thanks to her light stepping, she avoided setting any of them off. The hallway of scythes and battering rams was less easy to navigate, but she managed it with only a few minor injuries to show.

"Mercer, if you're down here, I don't care _what_ Karliah wants, _I'm_ going to light you on fire," Auri muttered, fingering a new slice in her leather hood. "This is going to be a pain to repair..."

Unfortunately for her ire, Mercer was nowhere to be found. But he hadn't cleaned up after himself, and she pulled a map from the table with a faint smirk of pleasure. And then, just because he'd left them out, she promptly raided the room of _all_ its treasures.

She hasn't yet had the chance to explore much of the Ratway, but fortunately it was a quicker way to the Flagon, one that didn't involve moving past that hallway again. It was almost too quiet in the Flagon and cistern both, and the air was tense enough to cut with a knife. Auriel found Brynjolf bent over the books at the Guild Master's desk, and hid a smirk; the job would likely suit him very well.

"Here. I found this," she said without preamble, laying the map onto the desk. "I take it there was no sign of Mercer in town?"

"None. And from your find I presume he wasn't at his home either."

"Nope. But this says a lot about where he _will_ be."

He studied the map, and let out a low whistle.

"Shor's Beard! He's going after the Eyes of the Falmer? That was Gallus' pet project! If he gets his hands on them, you can be certain that he'll be gone for good... not to mention set up for _life_."

"Well then, I suppose it's time to stop him."

"Agreed. He's taken everything the Guild has left, and to go after one of the last greatest heists is just an insult. But first... Karliah wants to talk. With both of us. Quickly; the sooner we get this done with, the sooner we can catch up to Mercer."

Auriel's brows went up; she'd though she'd take this on alone, but apparently that wasn't the case. And Karliah wanting something...? That left her mildly uneasy.

She walked with him to the middle of the cistern where Karliah waited.

"Brynjolf," she said. "The time has come to decide Mercer's fate. Until a new Guild Master is chosen, the decision falls to you."

"Aye lass," he sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. "And I've got one for you. Mercer Frey tried to kill you both, betrayed the Guild, murdered Gallus, and made us question our future. His life needs to end."

"And now you see why I prefer a betrayer not to live," Auriel murmured quietly.

Brynjolf grimaced and nodded.

"We have to be _very_ careful, Brynjolf," Karliah murmured. "Mercer is a Nightingale, an Agent of Nocturnal."

"Then... it's all true.. Everything I heard in the stories? The Nightingales, their allegiance to Nocturnal, and the Twilight Sepulcher?"

"Yes," Karliah said softly. "That's why we need to prepare ourselves and meet Mercer on an equal footing. Just outside of Riften, beyond the Southwest Gate, is a small path cut up the mountainside. At the end of that path is a clearing, and an old standing stone. I'd ask you both to meet me there."

Auriel scrutinized Karliah's face, and felt her unease grow stronger. The Dunmer had something planned, and she wasn't sharing all of it. Before she could ask, however, Karliah swiftly turned away and moved off.

The Altmer mage crossed her arms over her chest, and frowned thoughtfully.

"You look like you're thinking hard," Brynjolf nudged her gently. "I thought you trusted Karliah."

"Brynjolf, I don't trust _anyone_ fully," she replied absently. "We all have our own reasons for being interdependent. I think she has something planned, for the both of us, and I am not entirely certain I like where the path is heading."

"Do we have another choice, Tam?"

"...no," she sighed. "And I hate that as well."

"Come on. If you'll let me make a few preparations, we can make that walk to the stone together."

"No, I think I'll go alone," Auriel shook her head lightly. "I'll see you there, Bryn."


	17. Sixteen: Nightingales and Mercer Frey

Sixteen:

Nightingales and Mercer Frey

The clearing was lovely; the standing stone was ominous. It sort of felt as though the clearing was a reflection of the way Auriel was thinking at the moment; she trusted both Karliah and Brynjolf to differing points, but something about this felt like she was walking into something she couldn't later back out from. It was tempting, honestly, to just make her way to the Dwemer ruin Mercer was aiming for...

But in the end she waited. Brynjolf joined her about twenty minutes later, and Karliah wasn't far behind.

"I'm glad you're here," she said.

"What's the significance of this place?" Auriel asked.

"This is the headquarters of the Nightingales, cut into the mountainside by the first of our kind. We've come to seek the edge we need to defeat Mercer Frey."

"And what edge would that be?"

"...If you'll follow me, I'll try to explain along the way."

Auriel frowned a little, then sighed; she _hated_ not having a choice.

"Are we to become Nightingales, then?" she asked.

"It is my hope that you will, yes," Karliah admitted. "Now, come on."

Reluctantly, Auriel followed, and Brynjolf brought up the rear. A rock in the mountainside slide aside to reveal the hidden entrance, and in the trio went.

"So this is Nightingale Hall?" Brynjolf asked, looking around. "I heard about this place when I joined the Guild, but I never believed it existed..."

"The assumption that the Nightingales were just a myth was seeded within the Guild on purpose," Karliah replied. "It helped divert attention from our true nature." Then she paused and glanced over her shoulder. "What's wrong Brynjolf? I can almost _hear_ your brow furrowing."

Auriel stifled a snicker; he certainly looked perturbed by all of this. It was nice that she wasn't the only one.

"I'm trying to understand why I'm here," he said after a moment. "I'm no priest, and I'm certainly not religious. Why pick me?"

"This isn't about religion, Brynjolf. It's business."

Auriel held another theory; she had no doubts that Karliah had clued in to how close the two redheads were, and it was likely that Bryn was there to help ensure _Auriel_ would stay. It was, Auriel had to admit, a clever tactic. She was disinclined to let Brynjolf face Mercer, even with Karliah as backup. It was also an annoying thing, as it meant she had allowed the Nord to get to a place where few people were meant to be.

The tunnel opened up into a cavern that had decidedly seen better days. A small waterfall and stream provided fresh water, and as they continued through, the place almost seemed as though it had once been bigger. Two hallways branched off to either side, and Auriel wondered vaguely what might be down them. She also wondered what this place might have been like when it was first constructed for the Nightingales. And why.

"If you'll both proceed to the armory, and don the Nightingale armor, we can begin the Oath," Karliah said.

Brynjolf glanced at Auriel, who shrugged and glanced away. She still didn't much like it, but their options were few.

"This is enough to make your head spin, eh?" he murmured.

"Mmm..."

"Are you all right?"

"No. But I will make do."

He gave her a worried look, but didn't press further, instead turning to touch the odd stone that was the 'armory' Karliah had indicated. Auriel moved to do the same, and the change was instant. Everything save the enchanted ring and necklace she wore was instantly traded for a black leather armor with a dark hooded cloak to flow over the top. It wasn't _flashy_, no, but the cloak, at least, wasn't terribly practical.

"You appear ready for the Oath," Karliah said, and Auriel turned to see that the same change had washed over her two companions.

Brynjolf adjusted the armor slightly in several places, and Auriel did the same until it was a comfortable fit instead of a tight one. Karliah led the way down the hall, to a series of torches where she paused and turned to look back at them.

"We've got these getups on," Brynjolf said. "Now what?"

"Beyond this gate is the first step in becoming a Nightingale," Karliah replied.

"Whoa there lass!" Brynjolf held up his hands. "I appreciate the armor, but becoming a Nightingale was never discussed!"

"And you thought I was being _paranoid,"_ Auriel scoffed lightly.

"You _are_ paranoid," he shot back.

"To hold any hope of defeating Mercer, we _must_ have Nocturnal at our backs," Karliah said insistently. "If she's to accept you as one of her own, an arrangement _must_ be struck."

"What _sort_ of arrangement," Brynjolf retorted. "I need to know the terms."

"The terms are quite simple, Brynjolf. Nocturnal will allow you to become a Nightingale and use your abilities for whatever you wish. And in return, both in life _and_ death, you must serve as a guardian for the Twilight Sepulcher."

"Aye," he sighed. "There's always a catch. I suppose at this point there isn't much to lose." He was quiet for a minute, and glanced at Auriel, who merely shrugged lightly; she had reluctantly accepted the idea, but she wasn't happy about it. "If it means the end of Mercer Frey... you can count me in."

"What about you?" Karliah also looked at Auriel. "Are you ready to transact the Oath with Nocturnal."

"As limited as my options are, this doesn't seem like I'm being _given_ a choice," Auriel replied shortly. "But I expect you already know that I'm not inclined to let Bryn do something like this alone. So yes. I'm ready."

"Good," Karliah nodded. "After I open the gate, please stand on the western circle."

"Should I be flattered or insulted?" Brynjolf asked as Karliah moved to open the gate.

"...oh shut up."

He did, but not before resting a hand briefly on her shoulder. Auriel made a face behind the mask she wore and shrugged his hand off irritably; this was going to cause _so_ many problems further down the line. She just _knew_ it.

There were three circles all told. Auriel went to the on on the left, the western one, while Brynjolf stepped to the one on the right; the eastern one. Karliah took her place at the northernmost circle, then turned towards the center from with the three radiated.

"I call upon you, Lady Nocturnal!" Karliah cried. "Queen of Murk, and Empress of Shadow, hear my voice!"

Over the central platform, a ball of purple energy bloomed forth, and Nocturnal's voice echoed into the chamber.

_Ah, Karliah, I was wondering when I'd hear from you again. Lose something, did we?_

"My lady, I've come before you to throw myself upon your mercy, and to accept responsibility for my failure," Karliah's voice was softer, and she bowed her head in penitence.

_You're already mine, Karliah. Your terms were struck long ago. What could you possibly offer me now?_ Nocturnal asked.

"I have two others that wish to transact the oath, to serve you in both life and death."

Auriel scowled; Karliah's penitence was being bought with hers and Brynjolf's sacrifices. She most _definitely_ did not appreciate that.

_You surprise me, Karliah. This offer is definitely weighted in _my_ favor..._

"My appetite for Mercer's demise exceeds my craving for wealth, Your Grace."

_Revenge? How... interesting. Very well. The conditions are acceptable. You may proceed._

"Lady Nocturnal, we accept your terms. We dedicate ourselves to you as both your avengers and your sentinels. We will honor our agreement in this life and the next, until your conditions have been met."

_Very well. I name you initiates Nightingale. And I restore your status to the same, Karliah. And in the future, I'd suggest you refrain from disappointing me again._

The shadowy ball vanished as swiftly as it had become, and Auriel pulled her hood back so that Karliah could see just how displeased she was about being used like that. Brynjolf's expression, when he pulled his hood off too, was very similar.

"Now that you've transacted the oath, it's time to revealed the final piece of the puzzle to you; Mercer's true crime," Karliah said, heedless of their irate looks.

"What?" Auriel said shortly.

"Mercer was able to open the vault without two keys because of what he stole from the Twilight Sepulcher... the Skeleton Key. By doing this, he's compromised our ties to Nocturnal, and in essence, caused our luck to run dry."

"This is not likely to be the same key I was gifted in Cyrodiil for restoring her Eye," Auriel frowned, tucking away her anger with the Dunmer to focus on the problem at hand. "What can it do beyond open any door?"

"All of us possess the potential to wield great abilities. The power of great potential, sealed away in our minds," Karliah replied after a stunned moment. "Once you realize the Key can access these traits, potential becomes limitless."

Brynjolf stared in shock as Auriel processed this.

"...in effect, no one should have it," she said. "That sort of power would be far too tempting, and too dangerous."

"Good. You understand why this is about more than Mercer's lust for power," Karliah sighed a little in relief.

"I also understand that I am _entirely_ displeased with the way you used myself and Brynjolf to get back into Nocturnal's good graces, Karliah, so do not think I am happy with you," Auriel snapped.

The Dunmer winced a little, then sighed, and nodded a little.

"I know, and I will not ask for forgiveness for that. But if the key isn't returned to the lock in the Twilight Sepulcher, things will never be the same for the Guild. As time passed, our luck would dwindle to non-existence, and whether you know it or not, our uncanny luck defines our trade. We _must_ get it back."

Auriel sighed, folding her arms across her chest.

"It's the first time I've set out to _return_ something," Brynjolf interject, clearly attempting to lighten the mood.

"Very true. In our line of work, it's rare that we set out to return an item to its rightful owner," Karliah nodded, glancing at him.

"Listen, Tam... before we set out, there's one more thing left to discuss. Guild leadership."

Auriel frowned at Brynjolf warily.

"Hear me out," he said, spreading his hands a little.. "Karliah and I spoke while on our way here, and when you were breaking and entering in Mercer's place. Thanks to your efforts, Mercer was exposed, and after we deal with him, the big thing is going to be restoring the Guild to full strength. As a result, we both feel you have the potential to replace Mercer as leader of the Thieves Guild."

"Whoa, hold up, _no_," Auriel rejected instantly. "I already head the College of Winterhold, I have a variety of other things I need to do, I _cannot_ be bound to Riften like that! You or Karliah should be doing this, _not_ me."

"I've been at this game a long time, Tam. A _long_ time. I've stolen trinkets from nobles, and framed priests for murder... I'm good at what I do. Maybe even one of the best... but it's all I know. I've never been one to lead. Never desired it, never cared for it. Don't want it."

"I've only just been accepted back into the Guild," Karliah murmured. "There's still too much distrust for me to be accepted as a leader."

"No," Auriel shook her head. "No, I will not accept this. It's not my place."

"Look, everyone in the Guild admires what you've done," Brynjolf said coaxingly. "They may not come out and say it, but I promise you it's true. And now they know Mercer practically decimated the Guild. He lacks the loyalty you obviously possess. I can't think of anyone better."

"The answer is _no_, Brynjolf. It's not going to happen," Auriel said firmly, icily, and drew away from both of them.

Brynjolf looked a little unhappy, then sighed.

"...I've been pouring over the plans you found us, and I'm convinced that the Eyes of the Falmer are in Irkngthad, up near Windhelm. Karliah and I will meet you there... prepare well, Tam, it's going to be a fight to remember."

She turned away, ignoring the raised hand that would have tried to offer comfort, and stalked out of Nightingale Hall. It wasn't that she didn't want to accept it; being Guild Master would be the safest position, especially if the Guild was restored to full strength. But she couldn't afford to spend a chunk of time overseeing the Guild and all it's people. Not until she herself had the power that the Thalmor wouldn't challenge, could she afford to let her guard down.

Everyone had rallied behind Brynjolf when Karliah had arrived, and he had given orders naturally enough... but when it had come to dismissing Vex and Delvin, he had looked at her. And they had gone without argument.

She doubted he'd drop the idea either. Brynjolf could be stubborn about some things, and this was undoubtedly going to be one of them. There had to be a way to not accept, while still finding them a leader they _would_ respect. Karliah's reputation, while now restored, would still take time to heal from the bias the rest of the Guild dealt with. Vex was too much of a hot-head to stick behind a desk... but perhaps Delvin would do.

No, Delvin was a fence, and slightly too passive on things. He would not do.

Auriel cursed profusely in Aldmeri and headed off around the city to the carriage-house, and from there, to Windhelm.

Irkngthad, as its name suggested, was a Dwemer ruin. Auriel muttered a fresh slew of curses against the cold, the Dwemer, and Mercer Frey in particular. She didn't curse Nocturnal, but that was mostly because she had resigned herself to the inevitable there; she was a Nightingale, and would do her sworn duty... hopefully later rather than sooner.

She hadn't resigned herself yet to leading the Guild, but there was a reluctant acceptance of the idea. If Brynjolf and Karliah worked in tandem as her seconds, perhaps, freeing her up to move about more... well, _then_ she could agree. But not before.

The outside of Irkngthad was, annoyingly enough, covered in bandits. As if things weren't complicated enough. She wondered idly if Bryn and Karliah had slipped by them undetected, or had found another way in. She was not so inclined to go unnoticed, and in truth, the catharsis of fire and death did seem to steady her somewhat. At the least, when she reached the door in, she felt a little more inclined towards being wary.

No one awaited her in the first room, but there was one _damn all_ mess inside. It didn't seem like either the cautious Nord, or the patient Dunmer to have caused such a blood-bath, which meant that it was likely to be Mercer's handiwork. She grimaced a little, and reached back to touch the tip of her ebony bow. It was a reassuring weight, hung under her quiver, and she might just get luck enough to shoot Mercer before he saw them. Maybe.

She continued through cautiously, every sense on alert. After the bandits came shattered remains of Dwemer machines, most of which she didn't know the name of. A part of her was impressed at the level of wholesale destruction he'd caused. The rest of her wished he'd been part of the Brotherhood so that she could have removed him as a threat before this mess had been started.

Making her way past the one working construct was unnerving; she remembered how effective her arrows had been last time and relied entirely on her stealth to slip past it. Turning fire-spewing pillars were next; she practically crawled up walls in a couple of places to avoid nasty burns. An elevator led her down a floor, where she finally caught up to the other two thieves.

"Mercer's been here," Karliah said in lieu of a greeting. "I hope we aren't too late."

"I take it the bandits were all Mercer's work," Auriel nodded a little. "It didn't seem like the style of either of you."

"No, it wasn't," Brynjolf shook his head a little, clearly disgusted. "Why did we never see he was capable of this?"

"I caught him out by being an expert in body language and tells," Auriel shrugged a little. "You would have no reason to look for any of it. No point in blaming yourself, Bryn."

"We have to catch up to Mercer before it's too late," Karliah said in her soft, insistent voice.

Auriel nodded.

"Let's move."

"Let's tread carefully," Karliah cautioned. "It wouldn't be unlike him to leave a few surprises for us..."

Brynjolf, having just pushed open the doors, was forced to duck the spiked ball that came swinging down at him.

"...Like that."

Auriel snickered, and preceded the pair through the now-open door. It lead to more destroyed Dwarven constructs, and then a barred balcony that showed off the room beyond. Karliah startled, then hurried forward.

"What's that?" she demanded.

"Where?" Auriel asked.

"It's Mercer, look! Down there," Karliah pointed.

Unfortunately, the bars were solid, and there was no gate. Brynjolf lightly smacked them in his irritation.

"Damnit," he cursed. There's no way through!"

"...he's toying with us," Auriel murmured after a moment, watching the distant figure of the former Guild leader. "He _wants_ to be followed."

"Well then, we'll follow him," Brynjolf said grimly. "And be ready for his tricks."

"Let's keep moving," Karliah urged. "If we're this close, maybe we can catch up."

"Maybe... but let's not get ourselves killed," Auriel replied. "Between Falmer and Dwemer constructs, best tread lightly."

They made their way down cautiously, and stepped out into the room proper. Brynjolf stopped and stared.

"Look at the size of this place," he murmured. "Have you ever seen anything like it in your life?"

"Can't say that I have," Karliah murmured back. "Imagine the riches hidden within these walls..."

"And the danger," Auriel said sourly.

"You don't much like the ruins, do you, Tam?" Brynjolf asked, glancing at the Altmer.

"No. Dwemer ruins are one of the few places where my skills with magic and archery are null, and I do not fight well with most other weaponry," she replied shortly. "Let's get through it before Mercer gets farther ahead."

They found two switches on the upper level that, when activated at the same time, lowered the bars on the gate that was their alternate path. Through that hall they were greeted by another room, this one littered with Falmer, and two distinct paths.

"...looks like we can take the low road, or the high road across the chamber," Brynjolf observed quietly. "Tam?"

"Shhh," she hissed. "Falmer are blind, not deaf Bryn. Split up, and slip through one at a time... We stand a better chance of avoiding them that way."

They both nodded, and Karliah went first, sliding silently from shadow to shadow across the room until she was out of sight. Brynjolf was next, albeit reluctantly, and Auriel brought up the rear. While she thought it sweet that Brynjolf wanted to watch her back, she was imminently less likely to get caught than him, and therefore it made greater sense to send him first.

A loud crash made all three of them stagger, and they were forced to take shelter as the Falmer converged on the far end of the room where it had happened. Slowly they gathered, and Brynjolf let out a very quiet curse.

"So this is what we heard," he murmured. "The whole tower's collapsed..."

"The only reason to do that would be to block our path," Karliah replied softly. "It must be Mercer. We'll have to find another way around..."

"Mercer was able to knock this thing down?" Brynjolf shuddered a little. "Gods..."

"It's the Key, Brynjolf," Karliah insisted. "In his hands, there's no telling _what_ he's capable of."

"Shut up," Auriel hissed over her shoulder. "Unless you feel like aggravating a group of Falmer..."

Both of them winced, and Auriel studied the problem. After a moment, she pointed to a ramp, and gestured for them to follow. The trailed up and around the room,through another door, then paused to catch their breath.

"All right, Karliah I can understand," Brynjolf said after a minute, "her skin is dark, and so are her eyes. But you Tam.. How _do_ you blend in like that?"

"A few decades worth of practice," Auriel said dryly. "Believe me, when I first started, I would have brought all of them down on us."

"...if it's not an imposition... how old _are_ you?" Karliah asked.

"...I'm entering the latter half of my third century, I think," the redhead shrugged a little. "I stopped really counting a while ago."

Brynjolf whistled, and even Karliah seemed impressed. Auriel shook her head a little, and waved it off.

"Come on. Mercer's still ahead of us. I want to shorten his lead."

"Aye, right behind you."

The went out of the room and into the next, where Brynjolf stopped short, staring at one of the biggest Dwemer constructs they'd encountered.

"Shor's Bones! Look at that monstrosity," he breathed.

"It's a Dwarven Centurion," Karliah murmured. "Very tough, and very deadly."

"We can take the beast on or sneak around... Tam?"

Auriel smiled unpleasantly.

"I think we should turn it on, and let the Falmer play with it," she said silkily.

"...remind me to stay on your _good_ side," Brynjolf muttered.

She smirked at him, and loosed an arrow that pinged off the Centurion. It woke up all right, and since the nearest enemy was the Falmer, well, it laid into them. They slipped around the chaos, and Auriel nodded slightly in approval for a plan well managed. Finally they reached the door that Mercer had passed through, and Karliah made the faintest sound of anger.

"This is where we saw Mercer," the Dunmer muttered. "We must be getting close."

"...possibly. But still. Don't rush."

Auriel had little doubt that the pace she was setting was too slow for the antsy Dunmer, but she preferred being alive to being killed.

As they stepped through, Brynjolf reached up and covered his nose and mouth.

"The stench," he muttered. "This place reeks of Falmer."

"This must be their hive," Karliah murmured uneasily. "We'll have to keep silent if we want to avoid drawing their attention."

Auriel stifled her sharp response, and just continued to lead the way. They made it through the first room in safety, only a lone Dwemer construct to block their path. Its death throes attempted to electrocute Brynjolf, but Auriel managed to throw up a Ward in time to ablate the worst of the lightning. The second room looked like a torture room, with three Falmer in the way. Auriel slipped past the bone chime, and found a lever that activated the rooms' defenses. The trio of enemies died before they knew the Nightingales were there, and Auriel threw the switch again to shut things down.

"Even the Falmer don't deserve the pain these implements must have caused," Karliah breathed. "The dwarves were a cruel race..."

Privately, Auriel was inclined to agree, but she kept her thoughts to herself. Silence was the best way to get through this, and therefore, silent she would be.

They made their way deeper in, and stopped short at the large chamber, then pulled back to confer quietly.

"There's a mass of Falmer in there," Karliah said. "We can sneak through, or take them down, I don't care. As long as we catch up to Mercer."

Auriel shared a look with Brynjolf.

"Around. It might be slower, but at least we're more likely to survive," she said after a moment.

Karliah nodded sharply, and Brynjolf let out a quiet breath of relief. They crept around the edge of the chamber, sticking to the deepest shadows they could find among all the Falmer houses, and Auriel didn't really care that they might be missing out on treasure or coin. Their lives were worth far more than any petty trinket they might find.

"I can hear water rushing through these pipes," Karliah murmured as they made their way into a small tunnel. "We must be beneath a lake..."

The cavern they entered was obscured by more pipes, but Auriel eventually found a way around them. She could feel that they were indeed catching up to Mercer Frey. Using the pipes themselves, the climbed silently over a good portion of the Falmer; the icy chill of the water radiated through the pipes, and Auriel caught herself mincing a little. Brynjolf poked her lightly, grinning at her, and she mimed a swipe in his direction. It wasn't _that_ funny.

They dropped down into an alcove, killed the two Falmer within, and stepped down a short hallway.

"He's close," Karliah said. "I'm certain of it. We must prepare ourselves."

"Then this is it," Brynjolf muttered. "We do this for Gallus, and for the Guild."

They stopped there, checked each other's gear, ate, and had water. There was no way out but this door, and they stood before it. Mercer had not emerged by the time they were done with their preparations, so cautiously, carefully, they pushed open the doors and walked in.

Mercer was there all right. The blood of dead Falmer coated the floor, and he was on the statue, prying out what looked to be a giant white gemstone.

"He hasn't seen us yet," Karliah breathed. "Brynjolf, watch the door..."

"Aye lass," Brynjolf nodded as the Eye fell from it's metal socket to the shoulder of the statue beneath. "Nothin's gettin' past me."

"Climb down the ledge," the Dunmer whispered in Auriel's ear. "See if you can-"

"Karliah, when will you learn you can't get the drop on me?" Mercer sneered, turning around.

He held something up, and for a brief moment glowed with power. Whatever he did shook the entire chamber, and Auriel slipped from the ledge to land at the base of the statue with a sharp Aldmeri curse.

"When Brynjolf brought you before me, I could feel a sudden shift in the wind," Mercer said, glaring down at the Altmer as she picked herself up from the ruins of the ledge. "At that moment, I knew it would end with _one_ of us at the end of a blade."

"...give me the Key, Mercer," Auriel said flatly.

"What's Karliah been filling your head with?" he demanded. "Thieves with _honor_? Oaths rife with broken promises? Nocturnal doesn't care about you, the Key, or anything else having to do with the Guild."

"Of course not," Auriel snorted. "She's a Daedric Prince, what did you expect?! Someone to hold your hand and pat you on the head when you've done a good job? I don't really care one way or the other what she does or does not do for me. I have my skill and my power, now _give_ me the Key!"

"Have you learned nothing from your time with us?" He shook his head a little in mock disappointment. "When will you open your eyes and realize how _little_ my actions differ from yours. We both lie, cheat, and steal to further our own ends."

Auriel grimaced. Without really knowing it, Mercer had hit the proverbial nail on the head. She did not have a stainless past, nor did he picture a peaceful future.

"Yes, we do. But I've never betrayed the people I swore to stood by," she finally said. "I still retain some measure of my honor."

"It's clear you'll never see the Skeleton Key as I do... as an instrument of limitless wealth! Instead you've chosen to fall over your own _foolish_ code!"

Auriel smiled; she had her balance now, and her magic readily answered the call of a spell.

"If anyone falls here today Mercer, it will be you."

"Then the die is cast, and once again my blade will taste Nightingale blood!" he cried.

He launched himself at her, and Auriel dodged rapidly, lashing out with flames and lightning as he stepped into the water. Ice followed, slowing his movements, and she chased him with the fires as he tried for invisibility and failed. He used the key a few times, trying to drop rocks onto her, while behind her Brynjolf and Karliah were locked in a scuffle that Brynjolf had no control over. In the end, Mercer stepped into the water, just as Auriel released a ball of tightly compressed lightning.

As he fell, the room vibrated with explosions.

"This place is coming down!" Karliah cried. "Hurry! Get the Skeleton Key and the Eye, and lets get out of here!"

Brynjolf, returned to himself at last, slammed his shoulder against the door, but it was stuck fast.

"No luck there lass. Something must have fallen on the other side of the door. It's not moving!"

Water poured down from the broken pipes, and Auriel moved for high ground instinctively. Karliah sword in her native language, and Brynjolf cursed as another shake threw them both from what was left of the ledge, landing in the water that was starting to fill the room.

"There has to be another way out," Karliah insisted, picking herself up. "We have to find it before we drown!"

They looked around frantically as the water crept up rapidly, but nothing came to sight. It got to the point where even the height of the statue couldn't keep Auriel out of the water, and she gasped in shock at the icy cold that surrounded her. Brynjolf grabbed her to keep her afloat.

Another tremor shook the room. Then another. The rocks in the ceiling came loose, and Auriel lifted an arm with a relieved cry as boulders over the statue came down, revealing a passage up and out. Brynjolf hauled her towards it, and Karliah followed.

Auriel scrambled up to it, shivering from the cold, then paused to help her two companions out of the water as well, before they all hurried down the tunnel, to escape the still-rising water. Icy air had never tasted so sweet...

They traveled swiftly to Windhelm, taking sanctuary at Candlehearth, where they proceeded to rent two rooms to dry off and warm up in. Karliah and Auriel shivered their way out of their soaked armor and into towels, blankets., and robes that the innkeeper had been kind enough to provide them.

"I can't believe it's over," Karliah panted. "Twenty-five years in exile, and just like that... it's done. All that remains is to ensure the safe return of the Skeleton Key."

"Sounds like it ought t-t-t-to be simple... so I p-presume it's n-not?" Auriel shivered, huddling into the warm clothes.

"No, unfortunately not. When the Skeleton Key was stolen from the Twilight Sepulcher, our access to the inner sanctum was removed. The only way to bring it back will be through the Pilgrim's Path."

"N-n-never used it b-before?"

"It wasn't created for the Nightingales," Karliah shook her head a little. "It was made for those who wished to serve Nocturnal in other ways. As a consequence... I have no knowledge of what you'll be facing."

Auriel gave her a flat look.

"Brynjolf is needed back at the Thieves Guild to keep order while you're away," Karliah explained hastily. "And I... I can't bear to face Nocturnal after my failure to protect the Key. I'm afraid you'll have to face the end of the journey alone..."

"...fine..."

"Auriel?" Karliah said hesitantly.

"What?"

"...thank you. I know you're still angry for what I did with you and Brynjolf, making you into Nightingales without really considering your feelings... but I thank you for everything you've done. I would never have been able to do any of this if I hadn't shot you at Snow Veil Sanctum."

Despite herself, Auriel snorted in amusement.

"Y-yeah, well..." the redhead shook her head a little; her shivers were mostly under control, though she was a far cry from properly warm. "I know... you and Bryn want me to be Guild Master. I've almost accepted it. But I can't stay. I have... dogs, nipping at my tail, trying to catch me, and if I don't build up the proper protection, they can waltz right in and grab me. So I need to be moving. You and Bryn can have me as the Master, sure... but I won't be running the show. You two will."

"What?" Karliah's eyes widened.

"You heard me. I'll check in when I can, as much as I can. If you need to write to me, I have a house in Whiterun, Breezehome. But like you were with avoiding Mercer and the Guild, so I am, until I can ensure my own safety. That's my deal. I'll take the title, but you two have to take the work. Or you can take the title _and_ the work," Auriel snorted a little. "Gods know you've earned it by now."

Karliah went quiet, just staring at Auriel.

"You're serious..." she breathed.

"Yeah. I am. What's after me will kill me dead as sure as the snow falls," Auriel said softly. "And there's likely to be little anyone can do about it. You protect the Guild. You and Bryn. Believe me, I'm going to need the help."

"We'll do it," the Dunmer nodded. "Though I still think you deserve the title more than I do."

"Thanks... I think."

Karliah smiled ruefully, and shrugged, and Auriel laid down on the bed.

"I'm going to rest up for a few days before I attempt to take on the Sepulcher," the redhead said wearily. "Where is it?"

"I'll mark it on your map," Karliah said quietly. "For now, you should rest. You've earned every last bit of it."


	18. Seventeen: The Sepulcher & true friends

Seventeen:

The Sepulcher and true friends

The location of the Sepulcher was, of all places, down south in Falkreath, near the border to Hammerfell. Auriel rested in Candlehearth Hall for a few days, letting her armor dry out and ensuring she wouldn't catch another cold before she embarked on the trip.

It was actually a relief to be heading in a southerly direction, and she even stopped by her house on the way there; to her great delight, not only had they finished building it, but they had gone to the additional trouble of furnishing it for her. Oh, there were some things left to do herself—like filling the many bookshelves with books, and decided what shrines she wanted built in her cellar—but on a whole, she was _entirely_ pleased with the outcome, and spent an enjoyable few days acclimatizing herself to the domicile.

The Sepulcher was practically due-west from the old Dark Brotherhood sanctuary, something she found amusingly ironic. It was well hidden, tucked back into a small valley that, had Karliah not specifically mentioned it, would have been easy enough to miss.

A shade awaited her at the foot of the stairs that led up to the Pilgrim's Path entrance. Cautiously, Auriel approached him.

"I don't recognize you," he said in an echoing voice. "But I sense that you're one of us. Who are you?"

"I could ask you the same," she said, a little surprised.

"The last of the Nightingale Sentinels, I'm afraid. I've defended the Sepulcher alone for what seems like... an eternity."

"...I'm Auriel Talmanari," she said after a moment. "What do you mean 'the last'? Where are the rest?"

"We were betrayed by one of our own kind. In fact... _I'm_ to blame for what's happened here..."

"...You're Gallus, aren't you?" Auriel asked.

"I haven't heard that name in a long time," he admitted with a sigh. "How do you know of me, Auriel?"

"I have the Key," she said, proffering it.

"The Key!" He exclaimed, delighted. "You have the Skeleton Key! I never thought I'd see it again! And Mercer Frey?"

"Quite dead," Auriel said with a thin, cold smile.

"Then... it's over," he sighed. "And my death wasn't in vain. I owe you a great deal, Auriel."

"No, you don't. It was blind happenstance that I stumbled into this at a time when everything was coming to a head," she shook her head a little. "Perhaps Nocturnal's luck at that."

"My only regret is that you had to take this task alone."

"I wasn't alone. Your Karliah helped."

"Karliah?" He breathed. "She's still alive?!"

"Indeed. She saved my life, and helped me to track Mercer down and make him pay."

"And here I had believed her to fall victim to the same fate... Mercer's betrayal..."

"Here, take the Key and fix it," Auriel said, once more proffering the item in question.

"Nothing would give me more pride than to return the Key," Gallus said. "But I'm afraid it's impossible.. From the moment I'd arrived here, I felt myself... well... _dying_..."

Auriel blinked a little, frowning slightly.

"You're already dead... how does a spirit die?"

"The Sepulcher isn't just a temple or place to house the Key, it's also a conduit to the Ebonmere... a path to Nocturnal's realm of Evergloam," he explained. "When Mercer stole the Key, that conduit closed, severely limiting our ties to her."

"...so, you're saying I'll be doing this on my own."

"I'm afraid so... I'm weakening, and I can feel myself slipping away. The years without the restoration of my powers have taken their toll. Whatever damage has been caused can only be corrected by following the Pilgrim's Path, and replacing the Key to unlock the Ebonmere. Be careful, Nightingale."

Auriel bowed her thanks, then proceeded up the stairs into the Pilgrim's Path.

Beyond she found five tests, each one an aggravation all its own. The first was fairly simple, just... annoying. Other Nightingale shades, those who had clearly gone made after the closure of the Ebonmere, were first to block her path. She quickly learned that they actually responded _better_ to being shot than being lit on fire, and her bow was her constant companion while dealing with them.

The second was slightly enjoyable; slipping through shadows, and avoiding the bright light as she made her way around a maze-like path that lead to the third challenge. The dead bodies or previous attempts kept her from venturing into the light so see what might happen; she was attached to her life, after all.

The third coincided with the second, as she was quick to discover that the darkness hid tripwires which loose a hail of darts in her general direction. It made her very glad she had fast reflexes, and knew which way to join to avoid getting harmed. As she neared the end, light and tripwires both became harder to avoid. She had never wanted to be smaller before, but now she had the vague wish for it.

The fourth challenge left her stymied for the better part of an hour before she moved and caught sight of the chains beyond the carved heads on either side of the statue of Nocturnal. Pulling both of them put out the lanterns and candles, and the door beyond slid open of its own accord.

She moved past another pair of deranged sentinels, and found the last challenge, a pit, which she jumped into after several moments of marked hesitation. The landing hurt, but after a quick check of her extremities, she was reasonably assured that nothing had been damaged. She stood there a few moments, then jolted as the Skeleton Key warmed in her hand.

The floor melted away; she dropped three feet into another room, where a simple keyhole awaited her in the middle of the floor. She looked form the keyhole to the Skeleton key, shrugged, and put it in. Then stepped back.

The floor expanded upwards, and to Auriel's surprise, Nocturnal herself appeared in a flickering purple light, surrounded by birds who vanishes as quickly as they'd come. Nocturnal looked much like her carved statue," Auriel decided after a moment, with the part of her mind that wasn't frozen in shock. A cowl, loose robes, and two ravens, one on ear arm. The robes were terribly impractical, but Auriel supposed that a Daedric Prince could get away with wearing something like that. _She_ wouldn't be in danger of getting shot.

"My my, what do we have here?" Nocturnal murmured, turning her gaze upon the startled Altmer. "It's been a number of years since I've last set foot on your world. Or perhaps it's been moments. One tends to lose track."

Auriel just nodded a little after a moment.

"So... once again the Key has been stolen and a 'champion' returns it to the Sepulcher. Now that the Ebonmere has been restored, you stand before me awaiting your accolades; a pat on your head... a kiss on your cheek."

Auriel refrained from making a face; she was not one for casual gestures such as those.

"What you fail to realize," Nocturnal continued, "is that your actions were expected and represent nothing more than the fulfillment of your agreement."

"_Karliah's_ agreement," Auriel muttered.

"Don't mistake my tone for displeasure. After all, you've obediently performed your duties to the letter. But we both know this has little to do with honor and oaths and loyalties. It's about the reward; the prize. Fear not. You'll have your trinkets, your desire for power, your hunger for wealth... your dreams of safety. I bid you to drink deep from the Ebonmere, mortal. For this is where the Agent of Nocturnal is born."

Auriel looked at her askance, not entirely certain that this was as good an idea as it sounded. The Daedric Prince stared back impassively.

"The Oath has been struck, the die has been cast, and your fate awaits you in the Evergloam. Farewell, Nightingale Talmanari. See to it that this Key _stays_ this time, won't you?"

Auriel felt a sudden weight in her pocket, and slipped her hand in as Nocturnal slid back into her realm. And pulled out the skeleton key that she had received almost two-hundred years prior. It was a little dirty, a little rusty... but still whole and unbreakable.

"...She rewarded you well," Karliah said.

Auriel jumped a foot, and came down ready to attack. Karliah startled as well, stepping back on sheer reflex, and held up her hands defensively.

"Easy, Auriel. It's just me."

"Next time say something when you first come in," Auriel muttered, pressing a hand to her chest. "That was _not_ a fright I needed..."

Karliah chuckled sheepishly.

"I'm glad you were able to return the Key safely," she murmured. "Nocturnal seemed quite pleased with your efforts."

Auriel snorted a little, glancing back at the open conduit.

"She sounded more indifferent than pleased, though I am hardly surprised."

"I wouldn't take that to heart. It's her way," the Dunmer shrugged a little. "This of her as a scolding mother, continually pushing you to improve yourself; outwardly sounding angry, but silently content. I assure you... had she been genuinely displeased, we would not be having this conversation."

"All right... what's this about being an Agent of Nocturnal, then?" Auriel sighed.

"The circles at the base of the Ebonmere bestow you with the powers befitting of a Nightingale Agent," Karliah explained. "The crescent moon represents the Agent of Shadow. The half moon, the Agent of Subterfuge, and the full moon, the Agent of Strife."

"Only one?"  
"Only one," she nodded. "This is Nocturnal's way of maintaining balance. If you ever feel the need for a different ability, simply return to the Sepulcher, and step onto a different circle. Though you must wait at least a day between choices."

"And... now what? Is that it?" Auriel asked.

"Now your life as a Nightingale begins. Should the need arise, you'll be summoned to the Sepulcher to defend it."

"What about you?"

"The Guild has welcomed me back at long last," she said, her voice choked with emotions. "I feel like a void in my life has finally been filled. I only hope that this isn't an ending to things, but actually a beginning."

"Still think they won't accept you as Guild Master?" Auriel inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"No, I understand that they would... but I still believe it is not my place to do so. When the Guild is back on its feet... I will be happy to split the duties between myself and Brynjolf, but I believe the title truly is yours."

Auriel sighed.

"Well, it was worth a shot."

Karliah chuckled, and Auriel stepped onto the crescent moon circle. It felt... cold, at first. Like a small bit of ice. And then warmth flickered briefly through her, and she felt the knowledge seep into her mind on how to become invisible to any sort of detection.

"Gallus!" Karliah gasped.

Auriel quickly slipped out of the chamber, back to the entrance. They deserved the chance to say a private farewell, and she had no desire to witness sweet nothings. To her surprise, Brynjolf awaited her on the stairs.

"What, did you honestly think I was going to let you leave without saying farewell?" he grinned a little at her.

"...I had considered it, yes," she admitted, then sat on the steps next to him. "I take it Karliah mentioned my addendums to being Guild Master?"

"Aye, she did. It got me to thinking... what's chasing you, Tam?"

"I can't tell you yet, Bryn," she met his eyes steadily. "But they can go anywhere they want. Take whom they will. And you won't be able to do a thing about it."

He frowned, and she smiled faintly, watching his mind work. The click was almost audible, and he stared at her in shock.

"By the gods... you're being hunted by the Thalmor?" he breathed. "What did you _do_?"

"I don't know," she shrugged a little. "But they are inclined to believe that it's an offense worth killing me over. So I'm working to build bases of power. If I can amass enough, I can stop running, and kick them off my turf."

"...where will you go now, Tam?" he asked, resting a hand on her shoulder.

"I... haven't decided yet," she admitted. "I know, though, that you all will get the Guild back on its feet and return it to the glory it once was. When you need me for the induction ceremony, I will be there. Or... I'll try. It depends on what's needed at the time."

"Hell..." he sighed. "Here. Take this key, and this key. One is for the tribute chest by the desk. The other is for the vault. It's my copy, and Delvin is getting me another, before you ask. There. You're unofficially the Guild Master."

Auriel blinked, then laughed.

"Ah Bryn," she said fondly. "What will I do without you?"

"Be very bored, I assume," he grinned again, all roguish charm. "If you want my advice Tam, look into joining a group known for its physical strength. Between that, the power of being Arch-Marge, and the power of being the Master of the Thieves Guild, you might well be set up for life."

"I'll take it under advisement," she nodded. "And I wish you well Bryn. If you need me, send a message to my house in Whiterun. Breezehome. I'll get it eventually."

She moved to get up, and he stood with her, caught her other shoulder, and leaned in to give her a very soft kiss. She kissed him back, then allowed him to kiss her forehead as well.

"I mean it, Tam," he said softly. "We may not be romantically compatible, but you're a good friend. I don't want to see you turn up dead, or not turn up at all. If you run into trouble, just know that we've got your back."

Impulsively she hugged the Nord hard, then pushed him away gently.

"I'll do my best, Brynjolf. That's all I can do."

And she turned, and walked out of the Sepulcher.


	19. Eighteen: Enter the Companions

Eighteen:

Enter the Companions

For all she had claimed that she didn't have the time to run the Guild, she ended up staying in the Rift area for a while. Becoming Thane hadn't been part of the plan, no, but it got her access to Honeyside, and she much preferred having a house in the city, as opposed to under it. Brynjolf teased her about it when he came to visit, claiming that his little flat in the city had spoiled her. She had responded by telling him—with enough arrogance and mockery in her tone that he would know she was anything but serious—that the cistern was doing a number on her lovely hair, and frizz was not her friend. He had, of course, laughed, and they had spent several enjoyable evenings together, trying to plot out her next move. It took some doing, but he did, eventually, convince her to look into the Companions back in Whiterun.

She meant to, of course, but she got pulled into a few things at Solitude first—mostly courtesy of having a special Guild job in that direction—which resulted in another house, though she managed to avoid the title of Thane this time around. In truth, gaining homes pleased her; the more she had, the more confusion she could throw in the way of the Thalmor. She didn't much _care_ if they tried to raid this particular home, though she was quite aware that the Embassy was near to Solitude itself. She wasn't inclined to spend a _lot_ of time in Solitude, fortunately, so it would be a place of last resort, really.

Auriel then spent a couple weeks at her Lakeview home, reminding herself what it felt like to actually _relax_ instead of fuss about with things. Not that it stopped her from planning, no. She was _almost_ secure enough, she figured, to join in on Ulfric's ridiculous war. But not quite. There was magical power from the Mages College, and monetary backing from the regrowth of the Thieves Guild, but she still lacked physical protection, should it come to that sort of fight. She was under no illusion that she could take a hit, even with her armor in good repair. Getting someone else to take the hit _for_ her was the ideal path. Give her a good place in the shadows and her lovely bow, and she could certainly take people _down_, but she knew she was rather... fragile.

Indeed, she intended to go on to Whiterun after _that_, but ended up ranging all across Skyrim. She had, she felt, spent too long in Riften, and needed to try and throw any potential Thalmor trackers off her path. So she went north to Dawnstar, and earned a homestead entirely by accident there. Then she found her way to Morthal and ended up doing the same. Splitting money between homes was no grand hardship, and they would both serve her well if she needed to go to ground, really. They just... hadn't been what she'd set out to do.

She was in Whiterun for a day, when she got caught up helping the Gray-Manes find their missing son; she'd lifted the pertinent information from the Battle-Born house on a prior job, and had figured it could go to them. Northwatch was _not_ her idea of a good time, but she ensured every Thalmor there died, releasing Thorold to make his way to safety on his own.

When she got back to Whiterun, she promptly curled up in Breezehome and slept for almost two days straight. Exhausting was putting it mildly, and she had little desire to repeat the effort. It was dusk when she woke, and she took a long bath, as hot as she could make it, before she really felt ready to go out. All she wanted was a brief moment to relax... and maybe a certain silver-eyed Nord to come and find her.

She achieved the first by settling in under the branches of the Gildergreen, letting the scent fill her nose and lungs. There was just something so peaceful about those blossoms, about this spot. It helped that the Priest of Talos was no longer shouting his missive; something had happened recently, something to quiet him down. She wondered idly if the Thalmor had come through, then decided that she would think about them later.

She wasn't quite sure how she knew Farkas would find her there, but soon enough she heard a familiar step, and glanced up to see him standing there, a look of concern on his face.

"Sit, please," she gestured lightly. "You're a bit tall to stare up at from down here, and I have enough aches and pains as it is."

"What happened to you?" he asked. "You've been gone for months."

"Oh, a bit of this and a bit of that," she shrugged lightly. "Nothing terribly interesting, I'm afraid."

She hoped he'd get the hint. He seemed a little on the quiet side, but quiet didn't necessarily mean stupid. In her experience, it was the quiet ones who were the smarter ones. He shifted a little like he wanted to touch her, but refrained.

"Injuries like that don't look much like nothin'," he said a little gruffly. "Are you sure you should be out right now?"

"Please, I've had _far_ worse than these," she scoffed slightly. "I'm not going to die because I'm wearing bandages instead of submitting to a healer's attention."

She didn't feel like bothering Danica either. Not for something as small and harmless as her few burns were. She had dodged the lightning fairly well, really. The Northwatch soldiers hadn't dodged her arrows or flames at all.

"What brings you out here?" she asked as the silence grew a little too thick for comfort.

"Ah... lookin around. There's a kiddo who hangs out around here a lot, and while I can't exactly take her in, I try to look out for her. Doesn't seem right, a kid like that being out here with no folks."

She studied him curiously.

"And?"

"...I was hoping you'd be around," he admitted, ducking his head a little. "Got word that you were back in town and all that... wanted to catch up."

She smiled a little, faintly touched by this.

"You're sweet. I appreciate that. I have very few people willing to look for me. Fewer still who would worry over injuries such as these."

And they were both back in Riften, running the Thieves Guild for her. Which reminded her that she had to check her missives... there was quite a pile on the kitchen table, most in Brynjolf's distinctive handwriting.

"Someone like you?" he blinked in surprise.

"If that is a way of complimenting my appearance, I thank you, but do not presume you know me, Farkas. Fine features do not always imply a fine sense of morality."

It came out a little more bitter than she'd meant for it to, and she jumped a little when he tentatively reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder. She tensed, and he was quick to remove it.

"S...sorry," he mumbled, a blush spreading across his face.

"...you're simply too much," she murmured after a moment. "How goes your own dealings? Anything of note?"

"Nah, not really. Kidnappings, brawls, and things to fight. Same old stuff."

She chuckled faintly, shaking her head.

"Somehow, I expect only you could describe such a thing as 'same old same old,'" she teased him gently. "Will you show me around Jorrvaskr, then? I had hopes of finally acquiescing to your request to join. It seemed the prudent time for such a thing."

He blinked, startled surprise flickering across his face, followed quickly by a grin.

"Yeah sure! I'll take you to see Kodlak, see what he says. I mean, the old man doesn't accept everyone, but I think he'll like you."

"Hm. You flatter me," she smiled faintly, getting to her feet. "Lead on then."

Farkas looked like he wanted to take her hand and lead her in, but Auriel made sure to hold herself in such a way as to discourage casual contact. She liked him, inasmuch as she knew him, but she was still cautious. She could not afford romantic entanglements. Brynjolf had accepted it with grace, but she had the feeling that if she encourage Farkas, he'd pine after her for long beyond what was sensible.

Jorrvaskr was a large building directly east of the Gildergreen. Farkas lead her up two flights of stairs to ornately carved doors, and paused there while she looked around curiously. She didn't doubt that there was more to the building than met the eye, and she took note of the forge—the Skyforge, actually—off to the left of the entrance before she allowed him to show her in.

The walked in, ironically enough, to witness the beginnings of a brawl. A Nord woman and a Dunmer male were going at it, throwing punches as other Companions—or she assumed they were Companions, at least—cheered them on and took bets.

"That's Njada and Athis," he said as they watched. "They don't always get along. Njada's got... a lot of anger in her, I guess. Happiest when fighting."

Auriel nodded absently, head tilted. They had good technique, but in this case Njada's powerful hits got the best of Athis. A solid blow to the gut winded him enough that she was able to drive an elbow into his head, knocking him out cold.

"Impressive," Auriel murmured.

"Yeah... this happens," Farkas rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. "Come on. Kodlak should be downstairs in his room. My brother should be with him too..."

"You have a brother?" Auriel's eyebrows went up curiously.

"Yeah. He's a better talker than me. Better thinker too. Me, I just bludgeon things and call it good."

She frowned at his back, not liking the way he put that out there... as though it was a fact of life.

"...somehow, I believe you doubt your own worth, Farkas," she murmured quietly.

He shrugged a little; she could see he was uncomfortable with the topic. Obligingly, she dropped it, and followed him down a short flight of stairs, past pieces of something mounted on the wall.

"What's that?" she asked, pausing to look.

"The shards of Wuuthrad," he said, glancing up. "We don't have a lot of them, but it was Ysgramor's axe, back when he led the Companions. We're hunting them."

"...I see."

She would have to send a letter to Tolfdir and Urag; perhaps they could direct her to a shard or three.

The hall he took her down was fairly nice; the stone fit well together and the various rugs and wall tapestries kept the chill to a minimum.

"This is a nice place," she murmured.

"It's pretty comfortable," he nodded. "Telma keeps the place clean, so all we really worry about it making sure our enemies know we're there."

The hall split in three directions at the end. Two side hallways led to what she suspected were private rooms, while the third led to an open door. She could see two men in there, both Nords in unique armor.

"That's my brother, Vilkas," Farkas said, hanging back. "And the old man is Kodlak."

Auriel nodded and approached.

"But I still hear the call of the blood," Vilkas was saying quietly as she passed the threshold of the room.

"We all do," Kodlak replied. "It is out burden to bear. But we can overcome."

She stopped there, not quite out of hearing range, curiosity piqued at the oblique conversation. Eavesdropping was almost second nature, though she stayed near the door in order to feign ignorance; no doubt they were discussing some secret, and if she was patient, she'd learn of it in due time.

"You have my brother and I, obviously," Vilkas said after a moment. "But I don't know if the rest will go along quite so easily."

"Leave that to me," Kodlak nodded lightly.

There was a finality about it that suggested their conversation was done with, so she left off lingering and approached. Vilkas looked at her with suspicion, and mentally she applauded that; she liked Farkas, but he was clearly good-natured, not to mentioned somewhat enamored. He wouldn't think to question her loyalties the way this one would. It would keep her on her toes.

The old man, Kodlak Whitemane, looked her up and down. His face was friendlier, and she saw a flicker of surprise and relief passing through his expression before he hid it away.

"A stranger come to our hall," he said as she stopped.

"You're the leader of the Companions?" she asked.

"The Harbinger, not the leader," he corrected. "Is there something you need, girl?"

"I'm Auriel Talmanari, and I'd like to join the Companions."

It was a risk using her full name; even though Whiterun was mostly ignored by the Thalmor, it only took one slip for her to be caught out.

"Would you now?" To his credit he sounded thoughtful more than derisive. "Here, let me have a look at you."

She stood still while he looked her over more thoroughly.

"Hm. Yes," he nodded a little. "Perhaps. A certain... strength of spirit."

"Master!" Vilkas protested. "You're not truly considering accepting _her_?"

"I am nobody's master, Vilkas," Kodlak scolded. "And last I checked, we had some empty beds in Jorrvaskr for those with a fire burning in their hearts." He paused. "Or in their hands."

Auriel hid a smile; he'd correctly identified her magical affinity, and that was no easy thing. It was amusing, and a little heartening to know. Everything she'd read and heard about the Companions had suggested they might look down on the realm of the arcane, where her strength and skills lay.

"Apologies," Vilkas said a little grudgingly. "But perhaps this isn't the time? Farkas mooning over this girl is one thing, but _I've_ certainly never heard of her."

Which, in her mind, was a good thing. It meant she was covering her tracks properly and remaining undetected. Though hearing that Farkas had been talking about her, even a little, made her uneasy. She was going to have to impress upon him that she liked her privacy...

"Sometimes the famous come to us," Kodlak said mildly. "Sometimes men and women come to us to _seek_ their fame. It makes no difference. What matters is their heart."

"And their arm," Vilkas said, a little disparagingly.

Auriel snorted a little.

"Of course," Kodlak nodded, then glanced up at her. "How are you in battle, girl?"

"Well enough," she shrugged a little. "But I am aware that there is always much to learn."

"That's the spirit," he chuckled a little. "Vilkas, here, will get started on that. Take her out to the yard and see what she can do."

"Aye," he sighed reluctantly, getting to his feet.

He moved past her quickly, almost running into Farkas who had followed and lingered in the doorway. Auriel hid a smirk, nodding to the bulkier brother as she slipped delicately through the opening he left.

"Farkas, why not keep an old man company until they're done," she heard Kodlak suggest.

Mentally she applauded the move; it would keep him from watching whatever they were about to do. Probably a salve for her pride; she wasn't entirely sure of her arm strength, and it had been a while since she'd used a dagger as opposed to her bow.

The yard was out back, behind the building, and it was clearly used for all kinds of training. There were archery targets and sword dummies scattered around, and a broad circle covered in sand that was no doubt her practice area against Vilkas. He strode over to it, and gestured for her to follow impatiently.

"The old man said to have a look at you, so let's do this." He lifted up a shield, and Auriel grimaced a little. That was going to hurt... "Just take a few swings at me so I can see your form. Not that I expect you'll be able to hit very hard. You mer aren't much in the way of strength."

"If your attempting to bait me, that's cute," she said with a tiny, sharp smile. "Don't blame me if I miss and clock you on the jaw."

He snorted, and motioned for her to bring it. She did, though after one hit on the shield she was more willing to hit _him_ instead. Which was how he ended up in the dirt, shaking his head a little as she shook out her hand with a pained grimace. He had a head like a _rock_, and that had hurt.

"Not... bad," he said grudgingly, getting up. "You just might make it. But for now you're still a whelp to us, new blood. So you do what we tell you. Here's my sword. Take it up to Eorlund at the forge to get it sharpened. And be careful! It's probably worth more than you are."

She cocked her head at him slightly, accepting the weight of the blade gingerly. It was heavy, but not unduly so.

"Next time, don't underestimate me," she advised. "Mer I may be, but a child I am not."

He spat a curse under his breath and stalked back into Jorrvaskr. Auriel shrugged a little, and went up the stairs to the forge. It surprised her, a little, to see that it was Eorlund Gray-Mane; Thorold's father. He glanced over at her, and his eyebrows rose slightly.

"What brings you here?" he asked.

"Mmm... Vilkas shoved his sword at me, and asked me to give it to you," she shrugged a little, smiling thinly. "I think I made him mad."

"So, you actually joined then," he smiled faintly at her.

"Does he ask this of _all_ newcomers, or am I just lucky to have tweaked his tail?" she asked dryly, handing the blade over.

"Don't take it personally, Auriel," Eorlund advised. "They were all whelps once... even if they don't like to talk about it. And don't always do as your told; no one rules anybody in the Companions."

"Not even Kodlak?" she cocked her head a little. "How does that work?"

"Well, I'm not sure how they've managed it, but they have. No leader since Ysgramor," he shrugged a little. "Kodlak is the Harbinger, and he's a sort of adviser for the whole group, but every man is his own. Every woman, her own."

"Hm... interesting. I suppose I should be getting back though... Giving Vilkas a black eye may not have gone over so well with Kodlak..."

Eorlund let out a bark of laughter, shaking his head.

"Do me a favor, please," he said, before she could move far away. "I've been working on a shield for Aela. Red-haired lass, whole generally sticks to archery, but is branching out a bit. My wife is in mourning, and I'd like to get back to her soon. I'd be obliged if you could deliver it for me."

"Didn't you just tell me to not be a servant?" Auriel teased, a faint smile crossing her face.

"Aye, but this is a favor, not a demand. Will you?"

"Of course I will. Tell Fralla I said hello."

He nodded, and handed her the shield. She carried it back inside, and down to the living area of Jorrvaskr. Vilkas was sitting in a nearby chair, holding some raw meat to his eye and she stifled her smug grin in favor of a slightly genuine apologetic glance. There was no sign of Farkas, so she proceeded down the hall until she heard a familiar voice from one of the nearby rooms.

She pushed the door open to see the redhead from her first meeting with the Companions talking with another man who wore the unique wolflike armor that Kodlak and Vilkas both wore. They had been in the middle of debating something and stopped short at her entrance.

"Aela? I have your shield."

"Ah, my thanks, I've been waiting for this," she accepted the shield, then took a closer look at Auriel. "Wait... I remember you. So the old man thinks you've got some heart, I guess."

"You know this one?" the bald man asked. "I saw her in the training yard with Vilkas. Put him right on his ass."

"I had heard that," Aela smirked a little. "Gave him quite a thrashing, didn't you?"

"Don't let Vilkas catch you saying that," the bald man warned. "True or not, his hot-headed nature won't like it."

"Do you think you could handle Vilkas in a real fight?" Aela asked.

Auriel shrugged.

"I don't much care for boasting," she replied. "And in truth, that was more a hit because I didn't care to break my hand against a shield and he thought I wasn't fast enough to actually hit him in the face."

Aela chuckled.

"I like this one, Skjor," she said. "A woman who lets her actions speak for her. Here, why don't we have Farkas show you where you can sleep."

"Farkas!" Skjor snapped.

Auriel blinked a little as her friend appeared quickly in the doorway.

"Did you call me?" he said after a moment.

"Of course we did, ice-brain," Aela said dryly. "Show this new blood where the rest of the whelps sleep."

"Ah, no," Auriel shook her head a little. "That won't be necessary. I think I'll stay in my own house, thank you."

"You'll miss out on some of the good jobs if you don't sleep here," Aela argued.

"Perhaps, but I prefer my privacy. And as it is late, I believe I shall bid you farewell. It was good to meet you."

Farkas backed up a little as Auri stepped out of the room, leaving two surprised Companions behind her. He chuckled a little.

"No one's gonna know what to think of you," he said.

"Good. A little mystery is good for people," she snorted. "Now, do _you_ have something for a 'new blood' such as myself?"

"Sure. And hey... don't pay any mind to Skjor or Aela. They like to tease, but they're good people. They challenge us to be our best." Farkas took her across the hall to a small table, and sifted through a number of folded notes. "Don't mind my brother either. He... can be a bit hot-headed at times, but he's a good guy."

"Hmm... do pass on my apology," she said after a moment. "It was not my intention to give him a black eye."

Farkas snickered a little, and nodded.

"I'll let him know. And I hope you stick around... this can be a rough life..." He flipped through a few more, then nodded. "Make sure you come to me or Aela when you need work and we'll set you up. Once you're more known, Skjor of Vilkas might have things for you too. Like this one."

He handed her a scrap of paper, letting her look it over. After a moment, Auriel nodded.

"Yes, I can do this. It shouldn't be difficult."

"Good," he smiled a little. "Go kick some ass, Auri."

She blinked at him momentarily, then smiled faintly as he blushed.

"I think I will, Far. I'll see you shortly."

Auriel stifled a giggle as he stared at her in surprise, and made her way out of Jorrvaskr.


	20. Nineteen: Proper Induction

Nineteen:

Proper induction

Auriel did a few jobs for the Companions before Farkas informed her that Skjor had asked to see her. Intrigued, she tracked down the older Nord to see what he wanted.

"There you are," he nodded a little in greeting. "Your time, it seems, has come."

"Time?" Auriel raised a brow curiously.

"You've been a whelp for a short while, so I wasn't too sure about this, but Farkas says you've handled the jobs well, so I was talked into it. A few days ago, a scholar came to us. He said he knew where we could find another fragment of Wuuthraad. He seemed a fool to me, but if he's right, the honor of the Companions demands that we seek it out."

"...and what exactly does this have to do with _me?_" Auriel frowned a little. "I am not adverse to retrieving it, mind, but I would like a few more details. Please."

"This is a simple errand, but the timing is right for it to be your Trial," he sighed a little. "Conduct yourself with honor, and you'll be a _true_ Companion. Farkas will be your Shield-Sibling. He'll answer your questions. Try not to disappoint. Or get him killed."

Auriel snorted a little, and went to find Farkas again.

"You pushed for this, didn't you?" she asked dryly.

"...yeah," he admitted sheepishly. "but Kodlak backed me on it. Skjor and Vilkas weren't too happy about it, but you've done some good work, so you earned it."

"I've been part of your group for less than a week," Auriel pointed out cautiously.

"You're still ready," he said firmly. "Anything to ask before we get goin?"

"Why did Skjor call this my Trial?" she asked after a moment. "I thought I already passed inspection when I knocked Vilkas in the dirt."

"Until now you've been going on jobs with no oversight," he shrugged a little. "I watch you to make sure you're honorable in a fight. If you are, then I can call you sister."

Auriel frowned slightly. His attraction to her was an open secret in the hall, and he seemed oblivious to how overt he was about it. She almost wished Skjor had asked someone else, as his word would no doubt be questioned.

"...I suppose we should head to Dustman's Cairn then."

"Yup. Let's go."

Farkas led the way, and Auriel let him, though she noticed that he didn't seem comfortable with it. A bit like Brynjolf, he seemed more content in following than leading. It was, in its own way, sort of cute, really. The didn't speak much on the way out, Auriel more curious than anything else and Farkas quietly uncomfortable with taking the lead.

The Cairn seemed mostly undisturbed at first glance, but Auriel's second, longer look found signs of recent activity. Someone had been in here, and it hadn't been that long ago.

"Looks like someone's been diggin here, and recently," Farkas said, coming up behind her. "Tread lightly."

She glanced at him over her shoulder, then smirked a little wickedly.

"If you can keep up, I'll be impressed. Come on."

She didn't give him time to ask, simply slipping into her most silent and stealthy manners as she made her way through. She heard him mutter under his breath, and stifled a snicker. He didn't follow in her footsteps, no, but neither did she manage to lose him, which was impressive in and of itself.

The draugr were, as always, not terribly friendly, but Auriel's magic and Farkas' blade took care of them.

"Vilkas says magic's not very honorable," Farkas said as they caught their breath.

"Your brother doesn't know everything," Auriel retorted. "Magic is in my blood, and it'll take a greater power than _him_ to make me give it up. Besides which, magic has its uses."

"I'm just sayin, Vilkas might complain about it," he said after a minute.

"Well, he can complain all he'd like," she snorted a little. "I will always use magic when the situation presents itself."

He fell silent, and she moved ahead, irritated by his comment.

They arrived at a more open room, and Auriel glanced around with a faint frown; the way out was obviously blocked by a portcullis, but she could see no release trigger. Farkas caught her wrist after a moment, and she turned in surprise.

"If magic is your weapon, then magic is honorable," he said simply.

She blinked, then smiled faintly.

"Yours is a simple nature at times, Far," she said in amusement. "I'll see if I can't find the lever."

He nodded, letting her hand go, and she moved off to search a small alcove. The switch was there all right... but while it opened the gate out, it locked her in. She startled a little, attempting to yank the lever back, but it had stuck fast.

Farkas walked over, and shook his head a little.

"Are you all right?"

"...I will be happier if you can get me out of here," she muttered.

"No worries. Sit tight, I'll find the release."

She heard it then, a commotion in the corridor beyond. Farkas heard it too, tensing as he turned away from the portcullis that now held her prisoner. Five people ran out, weapons drawn. Auriel frowned at them; their blades looked almost like they were made of pure silver... but that was nonsense. Right?

"We knew you'd be coming," one sneered. "Your mistake, Companion."

"Now it's time to die, dog!" cried another.

"Which one is that?" the third asked.

"It doesn't matter. They all need to die!"

Farkas slowly backed up, his greatsword held carefully in his hands. Auriel's hands flickered with fire and she slid them into the gaps between bars. She couldn't aim terribly _well_ like this, but she wouldn't let them kill Farkas without trying to stop it.

"Killing you will make for an excellent story," the third one smirked.

"None of you will be alive to tell it," Farkas snarled.

He tossed his blade aside, and Auriel watched in shock as a change rippled over him. Already taller than her, he gained a dark, dense, furry coat as he expanded even farther. The transformation seemed to absorb his armor, and Auriel could only stare in awe, and a little bit of fear as Farkas became a werewolf. Fur, tail, muzzle, claws, and silver eyes.

She watched in blank shock as he tore the five to shreds, then ran off out the door. She yelped in surprise and pain as the gate lifted, hastily yanking her arms back out of the bars, though she didn't lower them. If Farkas had lost himself to the madness of the beastblood, she preferred to be prepared, and not devoured.

Sheepishly he reentered the room as himself, and she let out a slow breath.

"I hope I didn't scare ya," he said, scratching his head slightly.

"What in the name of the Divines was _that?_" Auriel demanded.

"It's a blessing given to some of us," he admitted. "We can be like wild beasts. Fearsome."

"...so, the idea is to make _me_ a werewolf?"

"Oh no, only the Circle has the beastblood," he said quickly. "You just have to prove your honor to be a Companion. 'Eyes on the prey, not the horizon.'"

"...you say that like it's so simple," she sighed. "I have to keep my eyes on the horizon. I doubt I'd survive very long if I didn't. Who _else_ has the blood then?"

"Well..." he hesitated, then sighed. "Vilkas, Aela, Skjor, me, and Kodlak. But that's all. Just the Circle. Really."

She sighed a little.

"I suppose that's better than finding out you're _all_ werewolves and likely to eat me at a moment's notice."

"Oh, we'd never eat you!" the haste with which it was delivered made her lips quirk slightly. "We only eat our enemies, like these guys, the Silver Hand. Or at least, I've heard Aela and Skjor do, and-"

"Far. It was a joke. Calm down. Let's go."

He subsided with a sheepish expression, and obediently followed after her once he'd retrieved his sword.

The tomb was rife with a mix of Silver Hand and draugr, making it a difficult path for both of them. The silver blades actually hurt more than she expected, but fortunately that particular injury was only a mild gash. He'd been _trying_ to take her arm off, so she was glad to get away with it. Farkas seemed to take almost territorial exception to her being injured, and while he didn't transform again, his greatsword was sharp, and he was _very_ strong.

Of course, the Hand and the draugr clashed as well, and when that happened, Auriel was content to sit back, watch, and wait. Farkas didn't quite get it, but he followed her lead, and they managed to get through with each others' help. They were injured, naturally, but they were not dead, and she had been surprised by how gentle his touch was when binding injuries. She had expected he wouldn't be able to mind his own strength, but instead she found she had to convince him to tie the bandages tight enough to stem the bleeding.

"You're a powerhouse, but your skill at stealth is terrible," she muttered.

"Well, Vilkas doesn't hold much with sneaking either," he admitted with a wince as she applied some salve to a burn.

"And you?"

"...what about me?"

"If you hadn't noticed, my repertoire of moves is stealth oriented. I'm the epitome of someone who hides in the shadows and waits for the enemy to weaken before they die," she pointed out. "I don't have great physical strength, I have magical strength and mental prowess."

"Well, you are built kind of... dainty..."

"If that's a kind way of saying I'm small and slender for an Altmer, believe me, I am aware," Auriel said dryly.

"I think you're a fine Companion," Farkas said after a minute. "No matter how your fight. You're honorable enough to me."

Auriel blinked at him for a moment, then abruptly turned away, embarrassed by the praise. Honorable. He thought her honorable? Her mouth turned up in a cynical smirk. Of course he did. He didn't know that she was just as bad as any Thalmor. And he didn't _need_ to know either.

The rest of the journey through the cairn, including the spiders, was done in a tense sort of silence. Auriel could tell that Farkas wondered what he'd said wrong, but didn't have the heart to tell him that he saw an idealized version of who she was. And if she kept her distance, he wouldn't see the real thing.

He didn't need to see that. No one did.

For a group of werewolf hunters, Auriel found that they weren't terribly smart. Of course, most of them were Nord, so likely the idea of taking the treasures of the tomb with didn't occur to them, but it felt more like they had been fools than anything else. Granted they would have died with or without the treasure, but Auriel found herself annoyed at their lack of foresight. Why _leave_ such things lying around when the money could be put to such other useful things? She would never understand Nords...

The last room, with the fragment in it, held a wordwall as well. A word that Auriel hadn't learned, but wanted too. She let the word slide through her gleefully, feeling the heat of flames tickle at the back of her throat. Now she could Shout fire too.

It came in handy almost immediately, as once the fragment was picked up, draugr came crawling out of their coffins to attack. The word, she discovered with great delight, was Yol, and it turned them into ashes and dust in a highly satisfying manner.

"What was _that?_" Farkas asked, breaking the strained silence at last.

"...Oh..." Auriel blinked, then shrugged a little. "Apparently I'm the dragonborn."

"'Apparently'?"

"Well, I haven't gone to the Graybeards yet, so who's to say?" she asked, her voice a shade too innocent; her mood had been entirely restored by that round of fire. "I just use the power that comes to hand."

He stared at her for a moment, and she smiled her best sweetly innocent smile. Watching him blush was a bit of vindication as well.

"C'mon. Let's get back to Jorrvaskr before they think we're both dead," she suggested.

"Yeah..."

The walk back was far more cheery and less in the way of tense. Auriel didn't _quite_ skip, but her steps were light; she was going to _enjoy_ this new Thu'um.

"Everyone should be gathered in the training yard," Farkas said, once they'd reached Whiterun. "Come on. We can make it real now."

"I'm coming, I'm coming..."

The yard was indeed filled with the members of the Companions Auriel now knew to identify as 'the Circle'. Vilkas gave her a suspicious, unfriendly look, but the rest seemed pleased that the pair was back. Farkas stepped into a spot that would complete a half-circle, and Auriel moved to the middle.

"Brothers and sisters of the Circle, today we welcome a new soul into our mortal fold," Kodlak intoned. "This woman has endured, has challenged, and has shown her valor. Who will speak for her?"

"I stand witness to the courage of the soul before us," Farkas replied solemnly.

"Would you raise your shield in her defense?" Kodlak asked.

"I would stand at her back, that the world might _never_ overtake us."

"And would you raise your sword in her honor?" the old man continued.

"It stands ready to meet the blood of her foes!"

"And would you raise a mug in her name?"

"I would lead the song of triumph as our mead hall reveled in her stories," he replied with a slight grin.

"...only if you learn how to carry a tune in something other than a bucket," Auriel murmured, a faint smile on her own face in reply.

His grin turned sheepish, and she stifled a giggle.

"Then the judgment of this Circle is complete," Kodlak nodded a little. "Her heart beats with the fury and courage that have united the Companions since the days of the distant green summers. Let it beat with ours, that the mountains may echo, and our enemies tremble at the call."

"It shall be so," the other four intoned.

Aela and Farkas both looked pleased. Vilkas less so. Skjor's expression was neutral, and she had the distinct feeling that he hadn't yet made up his mind about her. The Circle scattered, but Kodlak stepped up to speak with her.

"Well, now you're one of us. It was a trifle early, but I think you'll do well," he said, a friendly expression crossing his face. "Did anything special happen while hunting this shard?"

"...yes, actually. Farkas told me about you lot being werewolves."

He sighed, shaking his head a little.

"I see you've been allowed to know some secrets before your appointed time... I shall have to speak with that boy."

"No, it's not his fault. We were beset by the Silver Hand, and it was five on one, with me stuck out of reach." She paused, then cocked her head a little. "Though I suppose he did want to tell me..."

"He makes no secret of his attraction to you, but that is not currently the issue at hand. I suppose it matters not. Yes, the members of the Circle share in the blood of the beast. Some take to it more than others."

"Do you?"

"I grow old," he admitted with a faint chuckle. "My mind turns towards the horizon. To Sovngarde. I worry that Shor won't call an animal to glory as he would a true Nord warrior... Living as beasts draws our souls closer to the Daedric Lord Hircine. Some may prefer an eternity in his hunting grounds, but I crave the fellowship of Sovngarde."

"...Lycanthropy is a disease," she said slowly. "Much like vampirism. There is likely to be a cure, if we look long enough."

"It's no easy matter," he sighed. Then patted her shoulder lightly, a fond smile crossing his face. "But you don't need to share the worries of an old warrior. Today is to rejoice in your bravery! Don't forget to speak to Eorlund if you want a better weapon, though, from what Farkas tells me, you are a weapon on your own."

Auriel smiled her best disarming smile, and spread her hands innocently.

"I use the tools laid before me, and if it comes naturally, all the better. Out of curiosity, now what?"

"Why, keep looking for work, of course. Vilkas may not be terribly fond of you, but the lad is jealous, I think, of the attention his brother gives to you."

"And because I gave him that black eye."

Kodlak chuckled, and nodded.

"And because of that. He is a hot-headed youngster, but he should have some decent work for you. Or any other member of the Circle. You have made quite an impression on all of us. I look forward to seeing what else you'll accomplish."

There wasn't a response to that which didn't sound like boasting, so Auriel allowed a faint smile to cross her face, bowed to the old man, and moved off to see who might have some work for her to take care of.


	21. Twenty: Beastblood

Twenty:

Beastblood

Work for the Companions sent her all over Skyrim, a fact that she was actually quite pleased with. It made it hard for anyone to track her, and whenever she needed a Shield-Sibling, she could usually count on Farkas to volunteer, though every now and again she'd be paired with others that slept in the Hall. Athis, sometimes, and Aela had been willing to volunteer on a hunt or two before. She had also managed to acquire a few more words, most notably, the ones that strung together to improve the fire breath shout. It was Auriel's utter favorite, and it was no secret among the Companions that she very well _was_ the Dragonborn, even without the training of the Graybeards.

It was almost two months later before Farkas mentioned that Skjor wanted to see her again.

"Hello there, sister," Skjor greeted.

"You asked for me specifically?" she raised an eyebrow. "To what do I owe this courtesy?"

"I have something a little different planned this time," he said, a slight smirk crossing his face. "But it's not for everyone to hear. Meet me in the Underforge tonight."

Auriel blinked. The Underforge was a space under the Skyforge, she knew that much. It was a space for the Circle, for those of the beastblood. If he was inviting her there...

"All right. I'll be there."

She occupied her day with little things. Answering letters from Brynjolf mostly. He'd been writing a bi-weekly report on the doings of the Guild. Keeping her in the loop. In turn, she'd sent him some ideas on places of the Guild to lift items from. There were other missives as well, from the College. Tolfdir wrote more often, informing her of things that she might want to look into and study, while telling her of specific students and their gains, or their amusing failures. And of course there was all sorts of information from the Bard's College, though most of it was rumors and conjecture. She still appreciated that the College head, Viarmo, took the time to write to the many bards that were not in residence at Solitude.

As dark approached, she made her way back up to the mead hall, and found Skjor and Aela waiting for her. Aela pushed on a section of the rock underneath the forge, and it slid open with only a hint of protest.

"Are you prepared?" Skjor asked.

"If you're doing what I think you're doing, this strikes me as a bad idea," she said after a moment of thought. "But I believe I am, either way."

"We bring you here to make you stronger, Auriel," he said firmly. "Let's go."

Auriel sighed, and followed him into the darkness of the Underforge. She almost jumped out of her skin at the sight of Aela in her werewolf form, but it seemed as though the huntress had good control over herself and other than a slight growl, made no threatening move.

"I'm glad you came," Skjor said with an amused smirk. "It's been a long time since we had a heart like yours among our numbers. That pitiful ceremony behind the hall a couple months ago doesn't befit warriors like us. You are due more honor than some calls and feasting."

Privately Auriel thought he was being a bit optimistic. She was a mage, and a sneakthief, not a warrior. They had all gotten used to that, which surprised her a little, but the Companions were a diverse group that, while focusing on strength of arm, did not fail to praise strength of mind and skill. She suspected the latter was mostly due to Kodlak's influence. She hadn't _caught_ him at it, but she suspected that between him and Farkas, the way had been smoothed for her, just a little bit.

"I would hope you recognize Aela, even in this form?"

The redhead mage shrugged and nodded. While she had never seen other members of the Circle transformed, she had seen only Aela enter before them, and the wolf's fur had a reddish tint among the deep sable brown. It also helped that she wasn't attacking. Idly Auriel wondered if silver eyes were one of the things that would change if she accepted this insanity, and rather hoped she stayed herself. She was very fond of her unique blue coloration.

"She's agreed to be your forebear," Skjor continued. "We do this in secret because Kodlak is too busy trying to throw away this great gift we've been granted. He thinks we've been cursed! But we've been blessed. How can something that gives this kind of prowess be a curse?"

"I can think of a number of ways," Auriel said shortly. "And you would do well to recall that he is your Harbinger, and has more than earned your respect."

Skjor chuckled a little, and sighed.

"Well, I see it as a gift, and so does Aela," he replied. "And we're taking this matter into our own hands. To reach even greater heights in the Companions, you must join with us in the shared blood of the wolf. Are you prepared to join your spirit with the beast world, Auriel?"

"...if I say no?"

"That is your choice, and we will not force you," he nodded a little. "But to join the Circle, your blood must be as ours."

Auriel sighed a little. Another unavoidable choice; she was willing to swear that the gods were mocking her sometimes, placing her in these sorts of situations. The kind she hated most, where she had no choice available, despite what was implied.

"That's about what I expected... All right, I'm in. I don't like it, but I'm in."

"Very well."

Skjor approached Aela, pulling a dagger from his belt, and grasped one of her long arms with on hand. He held her wrist over the rock formation that had formed a natural depression in the middle of the room, and slashed a long cut in her skin. Blood flowed rapidly into the bowl, then abruptly cut off as Aela yanked her arm back and licked the wound. Auriel watched in mild surprise as the injury sealed over without leaving so much as a scar.

The smell of blood was pungent, and unpleasant. Auriel approached the basin with reluctance, and found herself vaguely wishing that Farkas was there at her back. Not that she didn't somewhat trust these two, but this was something she didn't much like undertaking without the guarantee that someone would be able to keep her from going crazy.

She didn't even have a cup to drink from... reluctantly she scooped up some of the blood with her hands and drank. It tasted vile, and she had a sharp coughing fit, as fire washed through her.

She didn't remember much of the first change; leaping the wall, running and running. She fought against the demands of the beast, working to subdue it, control it. Her will was strong, but it was her first time trying something like this, and while she didn't lose, neither did she win. Aela and Skjor caught up to her at some point and she turned to fight them. She didn't know whether she won or lost, but when she at last came around, she muttered a few choice Aldmeri curses at how _bad_ of an idea that had been.

Not that it didn't have its benefits, however. She sat up in the snow, and cold that usually plagued her was vastly lessened. Her sense of smell had become keener; she could tell Aela was there, could breathe in and taste envy, amusement, and a little bit of blood. He hearing, already sharp as an Altmer, had more than tripled in range and she winced at the flood of sounds that poured into her ears. Her eyesight had improved too, and she spent several minutes simply trying to adjust to the flood of new sensations.

When she felt she could deal with the sensations, she got to her feet, and Aela turned to grin fiercely at her.

"Yours was not an easy transformation," the huntress said. "But you're still alive, so congratulations. We even have a celebration planned for you."

"...that sounds just slightly ominous," Auriel grimaced a little.

"There's a pack of werewolf hunters camped just ahead at Gallows Rock," Aela gestured slightly. "The Silver Hand. I think you've met them before... We're going to _slaughter_ them. All of them. Skjor's already scouting ahead, so let's hurry."

"And this is going to end well?" Auriel asked cynically.

"Dead werewolf hunters are always a good ending," Aela retorted.

"Until they come seeking retaliation," Auriel pointed out. "A group like this is not _small_ Aela. If they attack Jorrvaskr, what then?"

"So you would let Skjor handle this alone?"

"...no. But I don't like this, and I'm vehemently opposed to this idea."

Aela snorted a little, and led the way to Gallows Rock, under the light of yellow, green and red skyfires, waving like banners over their heads. There were three Silver Hand members outside, and the two women made short work of them. Inside, the air was rank with something sharp and bitter, and Auriel covered her nose reflexively, trying not to gag.

"Look at this," Aela said contemptuously, gesturing to the bars that impeded their path. "Cowards must've locked down the place after Skjor charged in. You can _taste_ the fear."

"Wait, charged?" Auriel frowned at her. "I thought you said he was scouting!"

"He was. For Skjor, a battlecharge _is_ scouting."

The Altmer mage grimaced, and sighed. Either he would be fine, or he would be dead. Either way, he was undoubtedly too far ahead to catch up to at the moment. Aela pulled the chain and they slipped down the hall. The two Hand in the next room were easily dispatched by arrows through their throats, and Auriel poked around a little curiously, then jumped back as she encountered a werewolf hanging by one wrist in the closet.

"There's a dead one, isn't there?" Aela asked, peering around her. "Thought so. Nobody we know, by the smell. Some can't separate the animal from themselves. Go feral. This poor sod could've been anyone. We should keep moving."

It didn't make her feel much better, but she closed the door so that she wouldn't have to see it again. There was something almost sad about that, really. It made her glad that her own sense of self, and willpower were so strong.

The old fort held more werewolves, both alive and dead. Mostly dead. The few living ones were held in cells, and though it was tempting to unlock doors and let them loose, Auriel refrained. Werewolves—ferals, at least—were not known for their intelligence, and she had no desire to be ripped to shreds because it thought she was the enemy.

"Nothing we can do for this lot," Aela muttered, anger clear in voice and—to Auriel's surprise—scent. "Don't even want to _think_ about what these cretins did to them before they died..."

The deeper in they went, the more Silver Hand they found. They also found bodies of people, and Auriel felt disgust flicker through her; were these people so incompetent that they mistook ordinary folk for weres? Maybe it _was_ a good thing they were killing all these people...

The thought lingered, and then she gave herself a sharp mental shake. Thinking like that wasn't much like her, and it surprised her enough that she nearly got shot. Her reflexes were more than up to par, however, and she made herself sink into an icy calm instead of an anger-fueled temper. She could not afford to lose control now, and it would do no one any good if she did. Not Aela, not Skjor.

"We're getting close now," Aela cautioned. "Be careful. Their leader is a tricky one. They call him 'the Skinner.' I don't think I need to tell you why..."

Auriel grimaced and shook her head a little. With the way the air reeked of blood, pain, and death, no, there was no need for elaboration. She would be _so_ glad when they caught up to Skjor and were done. Though she didn't, at this point, expect to catch up to him alive. She didn't doubt that he would have killed every Silver Hand in there, were that the case, and they had come across no bodies save the ones they made themselves.

It wasn't a heartening thought.

The room where they found the Skinner held three other members of the Hand as well. It was not an easy fight, but they survived. Aela scrambled up onto a dais at the back of the room and swore.

"The _bastards!_ Somehow they managed to kill Skjor!"

"...I wish I could be surprised," Auriel sighed, wiping blood from her face.

"He was one of the strongest of our number! But... numbers can overwhelm," Aela looked down at the dead man mournfully. "I should not have allowed him to go alone. You should go. I'll make sure that we got the last of them, and see if there's anything to be gotten from the bodies. The Silver Hand will tremble at the sight of us."

"If that's your way of signifying that you have a lust for revenge, I'm simply going to say I told you so," Auriel sighed. "I'll help you once, though. Where would you like me to start?"

"The Silver Hand has been scouring the world for more pieces of Wuuthrad," Aela snarled a little. "According to some of these notes, you can find one group in the Rift. Take them _all_ down, and recover that fragment."

Auriel nodded, sighed a little, and left Aela to her clean up. The clean, cold air was welcome after being mired in the stench of blood and death.

Going to the Rift actually suited her nicely; Brynjolf had been pestering for her to visit, so she dropped in on him and the Guild while she was in the area. She didn't tell him _all_ of what she was up too—gods knew he probably didn't need to know she was now a werewolf—but she gave him enough of a rundown that he was pleased on her behalf.

She took care of the Hand in the Rift, and made her way back to Jorrvaskr, stepping past the other Companions and brushing by Farkas without so much as an apology as she sought out Kodlak. He glanced up at her in surprise when she closed the door to his sitting room, and she noticed his nostrils flare slightly as he picked up the change in her scent.

"Look, I went along with what Skjor said because I won't turn down a tool I can use," she said flatly. "But I'm not inclined to get involved in Aela's war of grief. Provoking the Silver Hand will do nothing expect entice them to attack us and continue the cycle of retribution."

She dropped into the other chair with a weary sigh, then placed the fragment on the table.

"And I found you this, by the way."

Kodlak blinked a few times.

"You've taken well to the blood," he observed.

"It has... certain advantages I hadn't considered," she said slowly. "I'm warmer now, which I will admit is an improvement. And I much appreciate the increase in my stamina and my speed. The sensory input is... a bit much at times, but I have come to tune out a good portion of it."

"And this was Skjor's idea?"

"His and Aela's," Auriel nodded. "I considered refusing, but in truth, I need some of these advantages. As much as I dislike admitting to it. They also set up the little meeting at Gallow's Rock that got Skjor killed."

"Ah Skjor," Kodlak's expression saddened. "Sometimes the blood runs too hot in even those who are strong of mind. I thank you for telling me of this, Auriel."

"I see no reason to keep it secret," she shrugged a little. "In fact, I see every reason to say it very emphatically."

"I will talk to Aela when she returns," he nodded a little. "Though I have heard whispers that she has done some retaliation of her own."

"...I wish I could be surprised," Auriel sighed. "I'm going to get some rest, and lay low for a couple of days. Send Far if you need me."

He nodded, and Auriel left Jorrvaskr. Her bed was nice and warm, and she was more than happy to fall into it. A long bath after waking helped her feel less like she smelled awful, and she spent a good day just cleaning and repairing her armor. The rest of the week she spent doing simple things in simple clothes; reading books that Urag had sent to her from the College under the Gildergreen, catching up on all of the reports Brynjolf had sent, and for a moment allowing herself to believe that she could have a simpler sort of life.

She had half-expected the beastblood to worry at her, to make itself known the way the words did on occasional, mostly whenever she collected a new Dragon Soul. But it was quiescent, and other than her newly enhanced senses, she was able to all but forget she now possessed it.

Farkas had been surprised, but mostly pleased by her acquisition of the blood. Vilkas notably less so. Auriel accepted Vilkas' suspicion and mostly ignored it; he had good instincts to not trust her, even if they stemmed more from the jealousy of a sibling than the knowledge of her deeds.

Aela returned at the end of the week, and tried to press Auriel into continuing the cycle of retribution, but Auriel refused. Instead, she accepted a job from Farkas, who tagged along with her. It was... nice to spend time with him. He didn't _make_ demands of her, nor did he question what she did. It was simple, and Auriel found herself growing more relaxed around him, more contented.

It was a nice feeling.

Eventually, Kodlak asked to see her again, and she went willingly enough. The old man was generally a patient sort, and he and Eorlund had managed to coax her into the room for a few drinks of mead after particularly tough fights. She was growing fond of the old men, of the Companions as a whole; it had been a long time since she'd felt like she had the makings of a family, but this group, these people... they managed it. Somehow.

"You wanted to see me, Kodlak? What can I do for you?"

"You connections at the Mages College have... come in handier than I expected," he admitted. "They have sent me a great deal of helpful information on lycanthropy and its various forms."

She grinned slightly; the talk where that had come out had been highly entertaining; two inebriated Nords had been disparaging about what she might get, so she had challenged them to _not_ find use from her connection. It was nice to be proven correct at times.

"And?"

"And I think I've figured out the way to cure us," he nodded lightly. "Have you heard the tale of how we came to be such?"

"Mmm... from two different sources. Vilkas calls it a curse; Skjor called it a blessing."

"Aye," he sighed a little. "That sounds like them... As in all matters of faith though, the reality is more complicated than one would tell you."

"So, you tell me. Give me the details that I can't get with Skjor dead, and Vilkas still pissed off at me."

"The Companions are nearly five thousand years old. This matter of beastblood has only troubled us for a few hundred. One of my predecessors was a good, but short-sighted man. He made a bargain with the witches of Glenmoril Coven. If the Companions would hunt in the name of their lord, Hircine, we would be granted great power."

"And thus they became werewolves," Auriel nodded lightly. "Did he not suspect it was a trick or a trap of some type?"

"They did not believe the change would be permanent," Kodlak replied. "The witches offered payment, like anyone else. But we had been deceived."

Auriel frowned slightly.

"...I'm afraid I don't see how," she admitted after a moment. "They paid to turn select members of the Companions into werewolves, and you did get great power from the transformation."

"The witches didn't lie," he sighed. "But this change affects more than our bodies. The disease does more than alter our physical form, it seeps into the spirit. Upon death, werewolves are claimed by Hircine for his Hunting Grounds. For some, this is a paradise. They want nothing more than to chase prey with their master for eternity."

Auriel nodded a little in understanding; she had little doubts that Skjor was happy being part of such a pack, and she expected Aela would enjoy it too.

"And that is their choice," Kodlak waved a hand lightly. "But I am a true Nord, and I wish for Sovngarde as my spirit home."

"And now you've found a cure."

"Yes. I believe so."

"How?"

"The witch's magic ensnared us, and only their magic can release us," Kodlak sighed a little. "It is unlikely that they'll give it willingly, but we can extract it by force as necessary. I want you to seek them out for me. Destroy the coven. And bring me their heads, the seat of their abilities. From there we may begin to undo centuries of impurity."

"Two questions," Auriel held up her fingers. "One; you want me to do this alone?"

"I'm afraid so, lass. I have heard whisperings of Silver Hand forces gathering, and thus, I cannot safely grant you a Shield-Sibling. I apologize."

"All right, I can accept that. Second question; how do you know they're still alive?"

"...Hagravens are not generally prone to mortal expiration."

Auriel grimaced.

"You are going to owe me _so much_ mead when I get back, old man," she grumbled. "You know I hate fighting hagravens."

He smiled a little ruefully.

"I know, and I apologize for this. I hope to cure those who desire it, though I am not yet positive on how. Your friend, Urag, has been sending most helpful tomes, and I suspect that the answer lies in one of them, at least."

"All right, all right," Auriel nodded. "Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone."

"Talos guide you, Auriel," he clasped her hand warmly. "Good luck."


	22. Twenty-one: Grief

Twenty-one:

Grief

The location of Glenmoril Coven was on the bored between the Reach and Falkreath, just outside the jurisdiction of either, and tucked away in a cavern so deep that few would know to look for it, if they hadn't been specifically told where it was. There were five hagravens, all told, and Auriel figured it would just be easier to kill them all. Not that she made it out unscathed, but she could take a few burns. They stung, but she had dodged well enough to avoid sever damage to everything save her hair, which she just cut off impatiently. Hair would grow back, after all...

The heads were foul, and she was glad of her extra bags by the time she collected them all; she certainly didn't want the dripping blood to stain the gemstones she carried around, or her gold. As it was, she wasn't likely to be able to use that particular bag for anything else ever again.

Whiterun wasn't in chaos when she returned, but she did catch the sounds of fighting. Or what seemed to be the tail _end_ of fighting, and she saw no excuse to rush if the guards had it handled.

However, those handling it weren't the guard, and she had to push her way through the crowd in front of Jorrvaskr. Several bodies lay sprawled out on the steps, with Aela and Torvar standing over them. She didn't stop, or ask for an explanation, she took the stairs three at a time and shoved the door to Jorrvaskr open.

Kodlak lay there, dead on the floor.

Guilt rushed through her, guilt and grief; she had _liked_ the old man. She had wanted to trust him, and he, knowing she kept secrets, had accepted everything there was to know about her. Farkas knelt beside him, silently mourning, and it was an angry Vilkas who approached her. Immediately, Auriel put her emotional responses on a tight lockdown. She could not afford to lose her composure here and now.

"Where have you been?" Vilkas demanded, anger and grief reflected in his eyes.

"...what happened here?" she asked quietly.

"One of the fiercest battles I've ever seen," he growled. "The Silver Hand. They finally found enough courage to attack Jorrvaskr, thanks to you and Aela. We fought them off, but..."

He glanced over his shoulder at the people huddled around Kodlak's still form. She saw his shoulders quiver a little, but when he looked at her, there was anger in his eyes, in his face.

"I ask again... where _were_ you?"

"Doing the favor Kodlak asked of me," Auriel said in that too-quiet voice.

"He... asked? No, you helped him into this mess!" Vilkas growled, one hand reaching up over his shoulder to grasp the hilt of his sword. "You and Aela antagonized the Silver Hand, and then you fed him this nonsense about cleansing the soul! I _knew_ we shouldn't have trusted you!"

He made a move to attack, but there was suddenly a whole lot of Farkas in the way. He grabbed the blade and yanked it away from Vilkas, then silently turned to point at Kodlak's body. Auriel had tensed, ready to dodge, and let out a slow breath as a measure of hostility left the set shoulders of Vilkas.

After a moment he glared contemptuously at her, then went to sit beside the body. She breathed a faint sigh of relief, and looked up into Farkas' grief-filled silver eyers.

"Is anyone else hurt?" she asked quietly.

"No, but they made off with all the fragments of Wuuthrad," he muttered. "Try not to let Vilkas get to you..."

"He's grieving," she said softly. "I understand. Just because I don't show it doesn't mean I don't feel it too. I just... know that there will be time for it later. Not now."

He hesitated, then uncertainly rested a hand on her shoulder. She kept her expression strictly neutral, though she did lift her hand and rest it lightly, briefly, over his. After he let his hand drop, Vilkas, in better control of his temper, rejoined them.

"You and I are going to reclaim the shards of Wuuthrad," he said shortly, glaring still at Auriel. "We will bring the battle to their chief camp, and _none_ will be left living to tell their tales. Only songs of Jorrvaskr will be sung! We will avenge Kodlak, and they will know _terror_ before the end."

She nodded, and Vilkas grabbed his sword from the ground, then stalked out the door. Farkas looked between them, grief and concern in his face. Lightly she lifted a hand to touch his cheek.

"Look after them," she said quietly.

"But..."

"Don't argue," she said firmly. "Go get Eorlund and let him know what's happened. But I need you here. You and Aela need to keep this lot from giving into the grief and anger. No more retaliations after this. None. This is the end of it."

"You and Vil..."

"Will be _fine_, Farkas. He is grieving, and his instincts are good. Better than yours in some cases, and I can recognize when grief wields a whip. I'll bring him back in one piece."

He brought up both hands to cup her face. It surprised her and she froze.

"I want _you_ to come back in one piece too," he said softly. "I don't want to lose anyone else."

She was quiet for several minutes, then lightly pulled away.

"You'll have to trust me then. We'll come back."

He made an unhappy sound, but let her go, and she followed Vilkas out the door. He growled at her, and she ignored it; she had no interest in being confrontational when emotions like this were running high.

"Let's go."

Vilkas nodded sharply, and they left Jorrvaskr and the city behind them.

The main base of the Silver Hand was up in the Pale, near Dawnstar. A place called Driftshade Refuge. Getting there was a very tense affair, involving a long ride to Dawnstar itself before splitting off the main path to trudge through the deep snow to the tower. Vilkas barely spoke three words to her, but she was fine with that; the icy winter winds had nothing on the numbness she enforced upon herself. Her grief was private, and she wanted no witnesses for when she at last allowed it to break free. _Especially_ not Vilkas.

The Silver Hand were nothing if not predictable. From the number of guards outside, the the werewolf heads staked around the door. Auriel growled just slightly as she went in, and Vilkas answered it. In this one moment, they were in perfect agreement; these people had orchestrated the death of Kodlak, and now they would have to handle two werewolves, who were not interested in talking things out.

It was very systemic, almost clinical. They went through every single room and killed every single person. There were no exceptions. If Auriel's flames didn't take them, Vilkas' greatsowrd usually did. And they stole everything of value that wasn't nailed down. It hadn't even been agreed upon, Auriel had simply picked up a handful of gold, and watched Vilkas do the same.

The found the pieces at last, bundled up on a table in the final room of the ruined fort. Vilkas tangled with the leader, while Auriel fought the support. All three died within moments of each other.

"There's... more here than the stole," Vilkas murmured. "They had all the pieces?"

"The perfect bait to lure you with," Auriel said coolly. "The fragments of the axe of the man who once lead the Companions."

He glared at her, but it was half-hearted at best. They were both exhausted, sweat-drenched, and injured. There was almost no energy left even for the grief. He pulled out a few scraps of leather, and bound them together.

"Here," he said gruffly. "You carry them."

She accepted the bundles with a slight nod, not letting on how little she wanted the pieces. She was just too worn out to protest.

"We should get back soon," he continued. "They'll be perparing the old man for his funeral... we should be there."

"Yes."

She shifted her stance slightly, straightening her shoulders. The still had to spend almost a day walking back, and tired or not, she would make that trip. For Kodlak.

It was raining by the time they returned. It seemed almost fitting, considering they were heading towards a funeral.

"Everything's probably set up by now," Vilkas muttered. "Come on. We're probably late."

She bit back her sharp, exhausted retort, and just nodded, falling in behind him. In truth, she would have preferred to be anywhere else, but she couldn't disrespect the old man who had become something of a mentor to her. She would just have to get very, _very_ drunk later.

Everyone was up on the Skyfoge; a bier for Kodlak had been places over the forge's embers, though it hadn't yet been lit. Vilkas moved to take hi place, and Auriel hesitated. Where exactly did she fit? A slight movement caught her eye; Farkas flicking his fingers lightly at her. Silently she made her way to his side, and allowed him to take her hand.

"Who will start?" Eorulund asked.

"...I'll do it," Aela said. "Before the ancient flame..."

"We grieve," the Companions intoned.

"At this loss..." Eorlund continued.

"We weep."

"For the fallen," Vilkas murmured, grief clouding his voice.

"We shout."

"And for ourselves," Farkas finished.

"We take our leave."

Aela lit the torch, and stepped forward. Auriel's grip on Farkas' hand tightened fractionally as she watched the huntress set fire to the pyre where Kodlak lay, grief a living thing in her heart. But still her face remained placid, her eyes dry. Some of the others were not so lucky.

"His spirit is departed," Aela said a little hoarsely. "Members of the Circle, let us withdraw to the Underforge, to grieve our last together."

Auriel released Farkas' hand, and nudged him along. He went without a word, and Auriel paused as Eorlund reached out to her.

"Do you have the fragments of Wuuthrad still?" he asked gently. "I'll need to prepare them for mounting again."

"...yes. Here."

And she shoved them at him, a little haphazardly in her grief.

"Careful with those. Don't want even more fragments do we?"

Auriel just looked at him, perhaps a little blankly. She felt... lost. Alone again. It wasn't a pleasant feeling. Eorlund cleared his throat a little, and glanced away.

"I ah... have a small favor to ask you," he mumbled. "There's another piece, one that Kodlak always kept close to himself. Could you fetch it back to me from his chambers? I'm not sure I'm the best one to go through his things..."

She just nodded numbly, and turned away to go inside.

Kodlak's room was now filled with painful memories, and she winced at the thought of going through his drawers and taking away any of his scent. She did so only with the greatest of reluctance, and it took her a while to find the fragment. It was tucked inside the pages of his journal and despite her best intentions, she ended up reading a few pages. Then a few more.

When she was done, she sat on the bed, held the journal to her chest, and wept.

It took some time for her to feel ready to give Eorlund the remaining fragment, and she made sure to wash her face before she stepped out of Kodlak's room. No doubt the remaining members of the Circle would smell the grief on her, but that was no different from the rest of them. They all reeked of it, and Jorrvaskr was bathed in the scent of sorrow. Auriel checked her reflection in a nearby silver dish, nodded a little, then stepped back out, and made her way back to Eorlund and the forge.

"You're back," he said quietly.

"Here. Kodlak's fragment," she replied just as quietly, handing him the piece.

"Thank you. Your Shield-Siblings have withdrawn to the Underforge. I think they're waiting for you..."

She nodded, sighed a little, and made her way down. She wanted to be alone, to mourn in peace, but that wasn't their way. And... maybe it wouldn't hurt to mourn _with_ someone this time. There had been no one to help her with any other deaths in her life.

There was a tension in the air, and it was clear from the tone of voice that the discussion in progress was not a happy one. Farkas looked up at her entrance a little hopefully, but she hung back, watching and waiting warily.

"The old man had one wish before he died," Vilkas said lowly. "And he didn't get it. It's as simple as that."

"Being moon-born is not so much of a curse as you might think, Vilkas," Aela replied, arms crossed a little defensively.

"That's fine for you," he retorted. "But he wanted to be _clean_. He wanted to meet Ysgramor and know the glories of Sovngarde! But all that was taken from him..."

"And yo avenged him," Aela shrugged lightly.

"Kodlak did not care for vengeance," Farkas pointed out quietly.

Auriel flinched a little, and pulled back slightly into the shadows.

"No, Farkas, he didnt," Vilkas sighed. "And that's not what this is about. We should be honoring Kodlak, no matter our own thoughts on the blood."

"...you're right," Aela said after a long, tense moment. Her voice was laced with softness and grief. "It's what he wanted. And he deserved to have it."

"Kodlak spoke of a way to cleanse his soul, even in death," Vilkas muttered. "You know the legends of the Tomb of Ysgramor..."

"'There the souls of the Harbingers will heed the call of northern steel,'" Aela quoted. Then she shook her head a little in exasperation. "We can't even enter the tomb without Wuuthrad, and it's in pieces, like it has been for a thousand years."

The door opened again, and all of them turned in surprise.

"And dragons were just legends," Eorlund said. "And the elves once ruled Skyrim. Just because something _is_, doesn't mean it must be."

Auriel saw it first, and drew in a quiet breath. Slung over his shoulder was an axe, ancient and strong.

"The blade is a weapon," he continued, nodding a little at her. "A tool. Tools are meant to be broken. And repaired."

"Is that...?" now Vilkas drew in a shocked breath. "Did you repair the blade?"

"This is the first time I've had all the pieces," Eorlund nodded. "'The flames of a hero can reforge the shattered.' The flames of Kodlak fueled the rebirth of Wuuthrad, and now, it will take you to meet him once more."

He turned to her, and Auriel stepped back on reflex as he lifted the blade off his back, then offered it to her.

"As the one who bore the fragments, I think you should be the one to carry Wuuthrad to the tomb," he said firmly. "The rest of you, prepare to journey north, tot he Tomb of Ysgramor. For Kodlak."

She accepted Wuuthrad gingerly, shivering a little at the feel of the weapon. It had killed thousands of her ancestors.

Farkas laid a hand on her shoulder, and she uncertainly hooked the axe near her quiver, then nodded.

"Let's go. For Kodlak."

They went north, a week's journey to Winterhold, and then half a day beyond it in a boat, to find the Tomb of Ysgramor. The door was so cold that it took the combined efforts of the twins to open it, and that was _after_ Auriel had done her best to thaw it out.

Once inside, they were greeted with a single room, and a large statue of Ysgramor, his hands empty and held aloft as though he was wielding his mighty axe. Auriel wasted no time in returning the weapon to him, and the door beyond slid open with a rough grinding of gears.

Vilkas hesitated, and Auriel gave him a curious look.

"This is the resting place of Ysgramor, and his most trusted generals. You should be cautious," he hedged.

"...you're not coming, are you?"

"Farkas was right. I let vengeance rule my heart," he sighed. "I regret nothing of what we did at Driftshade, but I can't go any further with my mind fogged, or my heart grieved..."

Auriel hesitated, then nodded, and pressed no further. Aela and Farkas flanked her, and the three of them stepped quietly into the frozen tomb. The encountered their first ghosts just within, and they were not easily disrupted. Beyond the next set of doors were several more, and both Farkas and Aela were swift to start the fights. Auriel's grief had turned to weary apathy; she no longer felt the desire to fight these spirits. All she wanted to do was reach Kodlak, and speak with him one more time.

She found a mild motivation when the next wave of ghosts battered Farkas to the ground, and fire worked just as well against spirits as it did on living flesh and blood. He grimaced a little as she helped him to stand, and gave her a worried look; Auriel quickly turned away, making her way across the water to start the next piece.

The way was blocked by spider webs, and Farkas shook his head a little, sighing.

"I can't go any further," he admitted. "Ever since Dustman's Cairn, the big crawly ones have been too much for me. Everyone has their weakness... this one is mine. I'm not proud, but I'll stay back with Vilkas. Give my regards to Kodlak."

She nodded a little, and even managed to dredge up the energy for a sympathetic look. She disliked being in the tomb period, but it was just a general discomfort, not a fear. Working past it was actually easier with her fogged mind. He hesitated, then clasped her shoulder gently before turning away to start back towards the entrance.

It was just the two woman now, and Auriel found the energy to fight. She didn't like it, didn't _want_ it, and did it anyways. Spiders fell, and then more ghosts beyond until they reached the large central chamber. A fire, blue, occupied a small stone basin, and before it was the spirit of Kodlak. Auriel's heart lurched as she recalled the words of his journal, and her approach was hesitant.

His smile of greeting, however, was unchanged, and she couldn't help but smile back, even pained as it was.

"I fear I will have to owe you that mead, my girl," he said in wry amusement.

"That's... that's all right," she said thickly, biting back the tears. "I'll get Eorlund to pay for it."

He chuckled, shaking his head a little. Aela snorted slightly too.

"What are you doing here?" Auriel asked, once she had control again.

"My fellow Harbingers and I are warming ourselves here, trying to evade the call of Hircine."

She blinked, and glanced around.

"...Kodlak, there's... no one else here."

"You see only me because your heart _knows_ only me as the Companions guide," he said gently. "I'd wager old Vignar could see half a dozen of my predecesors. And I see them all. The ones in Sovngarde... and the ones trapped with me in Hircine's realm. And they all see you. You've brought honor to the name of the Companions, and we won't soon forget it."

Auriel just shook her head slightly; even like this, he was still pleased by her. How pleased would he be, she wondered, if he knew where her loyalties had once lain?

After a moment she let the question go. It didn't matter now.

"Vilkas said that_ you_ said that you could still be cured," she said after a moment. "And you said my people at the College wouldn't be helpful."

Kodlak chuckled again, and shrugged lightly.

"Yes lass, and I was proven wrong. Throw one of the witches' heads into the fire, and it will release their magic. For me, at least.."

Auriel nodded, and extracted a head, throwing it onto the blue flames. They leapt high, and flared brightly, as Kodlak's spirit bent over. A great red wolf was all but torn from him, and the three of them battled the spirit down, and slayed it.

"We did it," Auriel panted, glancing at the old man.

"Yes. And slain the beast inside of me as well," He grinned in triumph. "I thank you for this gift. The other Harbingers remain trapped by Hircine, though...Perhaps from Sovngarde the heroes of old can join me in their liberation. The Harrowing of the Hunting Grounds... it would be a battle of such triumph. And perhaps someday you may join us in that battle. But not this day. Today, return to Jorrvaskr, and revel in your victory. Lead the Companions to further glory, Auriel. Yours is the heart that can do this."

"Kodlak, wait, I-"

But within moments he'd faded out, and was gone forever. Auriel's heart sank; like the Guild, she could not yet afford to stay in one place and lead such a rabble.

"Did I hear right?" Aela asked. "Did he say _you_ were to lead the Companions?"

"...so it would seem."

"You've earned the right," the huntress said after a moment. "Your strength and honor are apparent to all. Let's go tell the others... Harbinger."

Auriel grimaced a little, then sighed and nodded. She would have to find someone else to pass this title on to... She had to agree with the assessments of Kodlak, however; Vilkas was too hot-headed, Farkas to kind, and Aela too solitary. None of the others had the distinction necessary to _be_ the Harbinger.

After a minute, an idea nudged her. She turned it over, thought about it, then nodded to herself as she followed Aela back to the first chamber. Yes, that would do quite nicely.

Vilkas was not entirely pleased that she was to be Harbinger, but Farkas grinned at the knowledge. She had no intention of bursting their bubbles about her plans, and instead offered them both the chance to be rid of their own wolf blood. Aela refused, as was expected, but the twins both agreed, and after brief fights with their own beast spirits, were freed of the blood. Auriel stored the remaining heads in a nearby chest; she wasn't attached to the beastblood, but it was a tool she wanted to keep using for a while. Hopefully, if she died in the line of duty, Nocturnal would claim her first.

She exited the tomb, and found that she had come out the wrong door... but there was a word wall at the top, and she was not inclined to pass it up. It bespoke animals, and peace. She didn't want to use it, but there was no such thing as useless knowledge.

Auriel didn't accompany the others back to Whiterun; instead she went to the College to try and regain her bearings. Farkas attempted to follow, but she told him, very firmly, to go home. She knew that it stung, but she was unwilling to share her grief. Or her burden.

From the College she found her way to the Rift, and Nightingale Hall. She spoke some with Karliah, about grief, and the loss of friends. Brynjolf stopped by, but was summarily chased off, as she had no desire to share her pain with him either. Karliah proved an ally in that, and they talked, drank mead, and found solace in their mutual pain.

And finally, Auriel returned to Whiterun.


	23. Twenty-Two: Going to war

Twenty-two:

Going to war

She sought out Eorlund in private, at his home instead of at the forge. Fralla greeted her fondly, and insisted that Auriel join them for something to eat. She demurred politely; her business was with Eorlund alone, and it would have to be quick, before any of the Companions learned of her return. The last thing she wanted at the moment was for Farkas to catch wind of this.

"All right then, girl. What's with all the secrecy?" he asked.

"I want to make you the Harbinger."

Eorlund stared, then glanced down at the mug of ale in his hand.

"...no, you're not drunk, and neither am I. As much as I love Kodlak, and appreciate his desire to look out for me, being Harbinger would be restrictive, and I cannot take on such a duty. _But_, of the remaining members of the Circle, none are capable of being what's needed. You are."

"I'm not a Companion, Auriel. I'm a smith."

"And you've been folding Companion steel for years," she retorted. "You know them as well as Kodlak did. Better than I do, at any rate! What they need is a moral guide, and I can't _do_ that. Not right now, possibly not ever."

He frowned, scrutinizing her.

"What are you up to?"

"See? You can tell I've got something planned," she smiled dryly. "Aela wouldn't care, Farkas wouldn't question, and Vilkas... well, he always thinks I'm up to something. Which, to be fair, is true. I'll be honest here; I'm going to join the war effort. See if I can't throw my weight behind your Stormcloaks and finally end this thing for good."

"You would side against the Empire?" He blinked at her.

"...I might have been the heroine of the Oblivion Crisis, but in the long run, my loyalties laid elsewhere. Now they lay here. So, will you accept?"

He was quiet for several long minutes, just looking at her. Auriel made certain that her body language suggested urgency, insistence, and trust; he _had_ to take this job, because she couldn't do it herself.

"All right," he sighed finally. "I'll be their Harbinger. But _you_ be careful in getting involved in this war."

"It's a war," she said dryly. "I'll do my best to come back in one piece, but I make no promises."

"What should I tell the others?"

"Give them these letters," and she handed over two. "Vilkas, I don't doubt, will accept you without a fuss. These are for Aela and Farkas, because I expect this will confuse them. They were very pleased to have me as Harbinger, and the idea that I might _not_ want it will be more than slightly odd. Also, try and keep Farkas from following after me. I... appreciate his affections, but I don't have the time for them. Not yet."

Eorlund nodded, and Auriel stood.

"And keep them _out_ of the war," she said firmly. "I don't care how you do it, and I don't care what you have to tell them, just... keep them out of it."

"May the gods look after you, Auriel," he said after a long moment.

"May they look after us all. Because we're _all_ going to need it."

Getting out of the city without being spotted by one of the Companions was easier now that she was the only other one of the group who carried the beastblood. Farkas had a distinctive scent, and she used that to avoid him. She ended up having to leave through the Underforge, instead of out the gate, but it was worth the effort to slip out undetected.

She had been in and out of the city of Windhelm many times on her travels. Sometimes on jobs for the Thieves Guild, sometimes on her own merit. But this was the first time she'd made it all the way up to the palace, and she had to admit that the Palace of the Kings was fairly impressive. It wasn't terribly _warm_, but between her beastblood and her fur-lined clothing, she was actually fairly okay with that.

When she stepped in, she found Ulfric sitting on his throne, holding a conversation with a man who's voice sounded like it had been earned through many a shouted battlefield order. There was a certain rasp men and women got to their voice after bellowing across the screams of people for so long. She listened—it was hard to not, and she needed to judge Ulfric a little more before thoroughly weighing in on his side—and found herself mildly approving of the temperate answers the Jarl was giving.

He seemed almost uncertain of his chances, she decided as she leaned against the wall and listened idly. Though he wanted to win, he worried about casualties. About bloodshed and civilians. But at the same time, he wanted _all_ of Skyrim to follow. Not just those who agreed. She wasn't sure on if he meant all Nords—which seemed to be his defining theme at times—or if he genuinely meant everyone who lived in the land of Skyrim. Every Imperial, Breton, Khajiit, and on down the line, every person who had come to this land in hopes of a better life, a happier one. Every being who wanted nothing more than to love Skyrim. She hoped it was the latter, because otherwise she was likely making a bad choice.

The hoarse-voiced man's name was Galmar, and she caught a whiff of his scent that made her stiffen slightly. Something about it suggested were blood, but not _wolf_ blood. Though she had been told by Aela that she herself had looked more feline than lupine, it still was an odd thing to consider. Given the way he seemed to care little about the collateral damage, the way this Galmar seemed _convinced_ that the people would follow Ulfric despite everything else... reminded her a little of Vilkas, actually. Too hot-headed for his own good, needing temperance and patience. The Jarl seemed a good counterpoint to the rough-voiced Nord.

Ulfric's voice raised in passion as he spoke of the reasons to fight, and she weighed them silently. They were not the best of reasons, no, and there was a certain oxymoronic idealism in the idea of fighting to end the fighting... but it would do, for the moment. She nodded a little to herself, mind made up, and approached Ulfric on his throne. Mistake or not, he had the skill and the charisma to carry it off, and if there was one thing she knew he waned to do, it was oust the Thalmor from Skyrim. She would stand behind that idea quiet willingly.

He glanced up, and his eyes narrowed slightly.

"Only the foolish or the courageous approach a Jarl without summons..." Then he cocked his head slightly. "Do I know you?"

"Helgen," she said simply.

"Aahhh, yes," he nodded slightly. "Destined for the chopping block if I'm not mistaken."

"No more than you," she shrugged a little. "And fate intervened on everyone's behalf."

"So it did," and Ulfric nodded again, his eyes now more curious than hostile.

"I want to help you."

"You'll have to speak to Galmar for that," and he smiled faintly. "But we're always looking for more warriors. Especially someone who made it out of Helgen." Then he sighed. "Seems we're all branded villains these days. So long as your past stays in the past, and you fight for me with honor and integrity, we'll welcome you into our ranks."

Auriel nodded; she was branded a traitor to her people, even though that had not been the case before. Well, now it was time to make truth of their words, and accept the fact that what she was doing now was more than just protection. It was a betrayal of the highest sort, and she no longer cared. If she was going to live in Skyrim for the rest of her life, it was going to be a _united_ Skyrim, one free of overt Thalmor control.

She turned to the man in bear fur, and kept her expression neutral. Galmar scowled at her, and looked her up and down.

"Wolf," he grunted a little, though he kept his voice low. "You reek of it."

"You smell no better, sir bear," she retorted placidly.

"...Helgen, eh?" She could see that her picking up on his beastblood had surprised him, and it was a painfully obvious change of subject. Auriel smiled faintly, sharply, and didn't interrupt. "Ulfric told us quite the story. If you actually made it through that, you might be worth something to me. But first tell me; why's an Elf want to fight for Skyrim?"

Auriel raised a brow, then shrugged lightly.

"I could tell you a grand tale of revenge and spin a web of words to convince you of my sincerity," she said dryly. "I could point out the fact that while you may favor Nords, Skyrim is home to other races who love her just as much as you do, and that alienating them will win you nothing. I can also tell you that loyalty is a funny thing, and no matter what you do, sometimes your loyalty is rewarded with nothing more than death. But here's the plain truth. I want the Thalmor gone. It is not noble, or powerful, or brave. I don't do this because they restricted your worship of Talos, or because I have any great fondness for you and yours. I want them gone for me, and for the whole of Skyrim."

Ulfric, listening in, coughed in a manner that suggested he was attempting to not laugh. Galmar blinked a couple of times, then grinned a feral sort of grin.

"You're blunt enough, that's for certain. Now, how much can you take? Pass my test first, Elf, and then we'll see."

"If you insist," she sighed. "What sort of test?"

"The kind men use to measure themselves."

Auriel raised her eyebrow again, then looked down at herself pointedly, before glancing back at Galmar, an ironic smile on her face.

"I'm a man?"

There was another spate of muffled coughing that this time sounded more like laughter. Galmar just rolled his eyes and snorted at her.

"I'm sending you to Serpentstone Island," he growled. "If you survive, you pass. If not, well, you wouldn't have been much use anyways."

"And what, precisely, is at Serpentstone Island?" she asked, her voice a shade too innocent to be anything but mockery.

"It's where men... _people_," he glared as she smirked, "have tested their mettle for ages. There's a strange rock formation there, built by the ancients. Something about that place attracts the Ice Wraiths. You kill an Ice Wraith out there, and I'll have all the proof I need about you!"

"...and every recruit does this?"

"Only the ones I'm not sure about," he retorted. "It will prove your abilities, and your commitment to the cause."

"Simplistic logic at it's best," she snorted a little herself. "Very well. I'll return soon enough."

She could hear Ulfric chuckling as she left, and shook her head a little. Nords. The held the oddest ideals at times.

Serpentstone Island was far north, practically in Winterhold itself. She muttered a brief curse and wished vaguely that she'd bought a horse again, though it would have meant trying to find grass or carrying hay with them. Plus there was the boat ride to contend with, as Auriel had no intention on swimming through freezing cold water. Beastblood or not, that was simply too cold to survive.

She was not adept at poling the boat through the icy water, but she managed to do so without hitting anything too hard, and it didn't take a lot of effort to find—or kill—the Ice Wraith Galmar had been so certain would kill her first. She snorted a little again at his clear underestimation of her, and dusted herself off lightly. The trip back went faster, and she intended to present Galmar with the Ice Wraith teeth she'd collected as proof of her win.

"Tell me again why we're wasting time and dwindling resources chasing a legend?" Ulfric demanded as she walked into the map room. "We don't even know it exists!"

"The Jarls are upset," Galmar replied. "They don't all support you."

"Damn the Jarls," Ulfric snapped.

Auriel raised an eyebrow. That was hardly the proper response.

"They demand the Moot," Galmar continued.

"And damn the Moot!" was the snappish reply. "We should risk letting these milk-drinkers put Torygg's woman on the throne? She'll hand Skyrim over to the elves on a silver plate."

Auriel frowned. She had met Elisif, and while the Jarl was undoubtedly not the _best_ of rulers, she was not weak of will. Calling her 'Torygg's woman' was an insult, and she was very tempted to interrupt and say just that.

"All the more reason then," Galmar insisted. "The crown would legitimize your claim."

"A crown doesn't make a king..."

"No, but this one..."

"If it even exists," Ulfric sighed.

"It exists!" Galmar said impatiently. "And it'll be the symbol of the righteousness of our cause. Think about it. The Jagged Crown! It heralds back to a time before jarls and moots. Back to the time where a king was a king because his enemies fell before him and his people rose because they _loved_ him. Skyrim _needs_ that king. _You_ will be that king, Ulfric. You _must_ be."

As far as inspiring speeches went, it admittedly wasn't half bad. Still, she could almost feel sorry for Ulfric; it was just one more burden on top of the many others he already laid claim to.

Ulfric sighed, and ran a hand over his face.

"You're certain you've found it?" he asked, a weary note in his voice.

"When have I ever been false with you?" Galmar snorted.

"Fine. Take her with you," and he glanced at Auriel, who took that to mean she could safely join the conversation and stepped up to the table. "Fancy a crawl through a moldering dungeon to see if you can't stir up Galmar's Jagged Crown?"

"It''l be there," Galmar grumbled. "You'll see."

"Sure," Auriel shrugged. "Whether there or not, it sounds like it could be fun."

"Well, I owe Ulfric a drink. I didn't think we'd be seeing you again," Galmar said, glancing at her. "I misjudged you. You're definitely Stormcloak material."

"You and everyone else I meet," Auriel shrugged again. "I cultivate such an appearance for a reason. It's much more pleasing to see shocked expressions from people who don't expect me to be as good as I am."

"Hah! It's time to make this official. Are you ready to take the Oath?"

"Certainly."

"That's the spirit. By taking this oath you become one of us. A heroine of the people. A true daughter of Skyrim. A Stormcloak. Repeat after me; I do swear my blood and honor to the service of Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm and true High King of Skyrim. As Talos is my witness, may this oath bind me to death and beyond, even to my lord as to my fellow brothers and sisters in arms. All hail the Stormcloaks, the true sons and daughters of Skyrim!"

Auriel repeated it dutifully, word for word, and Galmar grinned his fierce grin again.

"Now you're one of us. Which means you can tag along on this little trip. Oh, and take these. You should look the part of a Stormcloak."

He handed her some gear, which she looked at, then shrugged and laid the Stormcloak cloak over her fur one.

"That's it?"

"...my armor is better than this," she said with a sniff. "I have a vested interest in staying alive, thank you. Now, where are we going?"

"I've found the final resting place of the Jagged Crown. Can you believe it? Well, I'm almost certain. We're bound for Korvanjund. But if old King Borgos really is buried there, we're bound to run into trouble of some kind. So I've sent word to some of the others, and they'll meet us outside the tomb."

"...and you're _certain_ this crown is in there?"

"If the crown exists, it'll be there," he nodded. "Now, let's move, girl."

Auriel nodded a little, and followed the gruff-voiced man out into the cold.

Korvanjund was off to the east, past the ruins of Irkngthad. It took a good few hours worth of travel to get there, and they were greeted by a small comportment of Stormcloaks. A Stormcloak caught up, and reported Imperials at the tomb, making Galmar scowl.

"Listen up," he growled. "Those Imperials aren't here by coincidence Their spies must've found out we know about the Crown and they don't want us to have it. But they won't stand in our way. I know some of you are ex-legion and may know men on the other side. But remember this; they are the enemy now, and they will not hesitate to kill you. Keep your wits about you, and watch your shield sibling's back."

Auriel grimaced a little, silently reminded of the Companions. She hated admitting to it, but she missed them a little. But wars were not something for Companions to get involved in, and she had no doubt that a good number of them would have followed her into battle if she'd asked them to. Hell, if she'd even _mentioned_ going to war, she knew Farkas would have followed without question. It made her wish he questioned more, and followed less, though the simplicity of his views made things...

She shook her head a little, pulling her mind away from those sorts of thoughts. Now was not the time.

"Ulfric Stormcloak is counting on us to bring him back the crown, and that's _exactly_ what we're going to do," Galmar continued. "Follow me. Quickly and quietly now. I want their guts on the ground before they even know we're here."

She grimaced a little at the depiction, and decided that she would hang back. Undoubtedly they wouldn't need her help in this. She was just along for the ride. The fight was quick, and while not bloodless, there was less than could have been. None of the Stormcloaks did more than was necessary to kill the Legionnaires that blocked the way.

"That's the way I like it," Galmar grinned fiercely. "Short and bloody. They never knew what hit them! But do not make the mistake of underestimating the Legion. Plenty of them are Nords, same as us! We had the advantage of surprise this time, but things won't be so easy from here on out. Now. Let's go kill some Imperials!"

They entered the tomb with more stealth than she expected, but stealth was quickly given up in favor of full-fledged combat. Auriel just shook her head, and moved off to a corner where she had a clear line of sight for her bow. When they were all down, Galmar nodded at two of the Stormcloaks.

"You two, stay and guard the entrance. We don't want any Imperial reinforcements taking us by surprise. The rest of you lot are with me!"

They charged down the hall, weapons drawn. Auriel just sighed and followed after, quick and silent. They took out the Imperials in the next room, then Galmar hesitated at the narrow hallway beyond.

"I don't like the look of this," he grumbled. "Perfect spot for an ambush. Ten to one they're just waiting for us on the other side."

"But there isn't any other way through," protested one of the Stormcloaks.

"Huuh, you sure about that? Then please, be my guest and go strolling in there," he said sarcastically. "We'll stay here and watch you back."

She hesitated, and the burly man nodded with a snort.

"Not so sure? Then perhaps we should take a moment to look around a little, eh?" He glanced around, and his eyes landed on Auriel. "You there, Unblooded."

"Auriel."

"Whatever. See if you can find another way through," he ordered. "We'll charge in to help as soon as we hear fighting."

She raised a skeptical eyebrow, then shrugged.

"More like you'll charge in to a handful of dead bodies, but all right. I'll see what I can find."

He let out a short bark of laughter as she turned and slipped back up the stairs, scouring the room for another way through. It wasn't actually that hard to find; the upper level of the room wrapped around, and fed to a small walkway, where Auriel had the perfect bird's eye view of Legionnaires waiting to ambush.

"You hear anything?" one soldier asked.

"No, but I know they're out there," another responded sourly. "No other way they can come. Now shut up, or you'll blow the ambush!"

"I don't like it," the first one muttered. "What are they waiting for?"

"Maybe they're so scared of you they ran away," the second sneered, clearly impatient.

"Hardly likely."

"Just shut up and keep out of sight!" the second soldier ordered.

Auriel smiled, and sighted on a lamp hanging high above the oil slick the soldier was standing in. There was a round of shocked cursing and screams of pain as she loosed her barrage, and true to her word, Galmar and the others charged in to find a room full of dead corpses. He looked up, and she waved cheekily.

"...careful, the lot of you," he muttered when she rejoined them. "There's bound to be more up ahead."

"Can we send her up first?" one of the others joked.

"Alas, there's no secondary path out, so I fear you brute force men and women will just have to handle things," she retorted sweetly.

Snickers ran through the group, as they headed onwards. The next room held only a couple, and they were easy enough to dispatch, but one of the Stormcloaks stopped short at the sight of a dead draugr.

"What in the name of the nine holds is that?" she demanded.

"Draugr," another responded. "Ain't you ever seen one before?"

"No," and the soldier shuddered. "And I'm not sure I'm better off for it now, neither."

"Steady," Galmar replied, laying a heavy hand on the soldier's shoulder. "A few dusty bonewalkers aren't going to stop us any more than the Imperials could. We're not leaving until we get what we came for. Now let's keep moving."

The soldiers nodded, and they moved further into the tomb.

The Legionnaires had met the draugr too, it seemed. And from the looks of it, draugr were tougher, though not by much. Auriel just shook her head a little; if people were better at stealth, the draugr could be avoided entirely, but no one else seemed to agree with her.

And then they ran into an obstacle that had stymied the Legion at last.

"Ah!" Galmar sighed a little, sheathing his weapon. "The Hall of Stories. We must be getting close now."

"Oh, I've heard of this," a solider murmured. "They say these walls show the history of the ancients who built this place."

"Too bad we can't read these carvings," another remarked. "Who knows what secrets we'd uncover?"

"One thing at a time," Galmar said gruffly. "We're here for the Crown. Any of these carvings show a crown?" Then he scrutinized a dead Imperial near the door. "Hn. Looks like this is as far as the Imperials got. Even if one of these pictures tells us where the Crown is, I'm betting we're going to have to find a way through that door. See what you lot can figure out. I'll check out these carvings over here. Let me know if you find something."

They scattered about the Hall, and Auriel herself turned to look at the dead Imperials. From her own travels through these ridiculous tombs, she'd come to understand that the doors required a very specific key, one shaped like the claw of a dragon. In the pouch of the second dead man, she found what she was looking for. It was made of ebony, with three symbols on the palm.

"Galmar."

He glanced over, cocking his head a little.

"That looks like some kind of claw from a statue," he muttered. "What's it used for?"

Auriel smiled, and reached up to shift the three stone rings on the door until they matched the ones on the palm of the claw. Then she inserted the claw and turned it. As the door accepted the combination, she smirked a little, then turned to Galmar.

"Opening doors, of course."

He stared at her from a moment, then shook his head a little.

"Good job... All right everyone, keep your guard up! No telling what we'll find down here."

"Mostly?" Auriel shrugged a little. "Draugr."

"That's not comforting," muttered a soldier.

What they found was an empty room, door blocked by solid bars. Galmar growled a little and shook his head.

"All right. Let's spread out and see what we've got. You, Auriel. Do what you do best, and see if you can't get that door open."

She nodded, and headed up again; the upper walkways were her friend it seemed, and she didn't doubt that there would be trouble. There were just too many stone coffins around for this to be _easy_.

First she found a hidden treasure room, which she raided gleefully. Then she traversed a thin path over the main room, and finally found a lever set into the wall. Turning it opened the gate all right, but it also woke up all the draugr in the tomb. To call the battle unpleasant would have been an understatement, but when all was said and done, only one of the Stormcloaks had fallen from their injuries.

"Right," Galmar shook his head a little. "Let's see what's through this door."

What was through the door was a hallway that lead out into another coffin filled room. Auriel grimaced, and shook out her hands. No doubt this was going to be another fight with the draugr, and an unpleasant one at that.

"The crown must be around here somewhere," Galmar growled a little. "Spread out, and keep your eyes open."

The crown was there all right. On the head of a very _angry_ draugr who didn't want to let it go. Auriel let Galmar fight that one, mostly because him stepping onto the dais had woken it up, and she couldn't get a clear shot around him. Galmar was simply too damn big.

He knocked the draugr down, with the help of the remaining Stormcloaks, then yanked the crown from its head and tossed it to Auriel. She swore at him in Aldmeri and caught it on the end of her bow; she was _not_ in the mood to have her hands pierced by the sharp points of the crown itself.

"Get to Windhelm with the crown as quick as you can," Galmar grinned. "And tell Ulfric he owes me a drink."

She nodded a little, and stepped past the now empty throne. The word wall beyond surprised her, but it was an easy grab, and soon enough, she was on her way back to Windhelm, the crown tucked away in her bag.


	24. Twenty-three: Issues in Whiterun

Twenty-three

Issues in Whiterun

"Galmar says you owe him a drink," Auriel said as she placed the crown in Ulfric's hands.

"Damn him," he chuckled, and shook his head, marveling at the crown. "That old bear was right. Did you run into any trouble?"

"Imperials, draugr. Nothing that we didn't take out, of course."

"Of course..."

He gave her a bemused look, and she shrugged lightly. After a moment he shook his head again.

"Now then... I'm glad you've returned, actually. I need a message delivered to the Jarl of Whiterun. Here. Deliver this axe to Balgruuf the Greater."

She raised her eyebrows as he handed her a simple war axe.

"Should I say anything?"

"Men who understand each other often have no need for words," Ulfric said cryptically. "There are but a few simple truths behind one warrior giving another his axe. Balgruuf will know my meaning."

"Yes, but I don't."

"If he keeps it, I will bide my time," Ulfric clarified. "If he returns it, it means war."

"...interesting. All right."

"Keep your wits about you," Ulfric cautioned. "The Jarl of Whiterun is known for his temper."

"Perhaps, but I don't think he'd attack me."

"Oh?" Ulfric raised an eyebrow.

"I'm a Thane in his hold," she smiled faintly, a little smugly.

"Ah. Be careful anyways. You are an interesting person, and I want to see what else you might help us get up to."

Auriel nodded a little, and inwardly snickered. Ulfric had no idea what the culmination of her plans were. He would see soon enough, though.

She debated poking her head in on Eorlund while she was there, but eventually discarded the thought; no point in stirring anything up. As long as he kept the Companions safe, and out of the war, it would be okay.

Auriel hadn't had cause to speak to the Jarl often. He'd always seemed a little miffed that she never told him her name, and she felt no desire to antagonize him any. On this day, she found herself hoping that he would accept the axe; she _liked_ the tough old Nord, and had no idea who Ulfric might put in his place.

"...it's been some time," he said as she approached his chair. "What brings you to my place now, dragonborn?"

"This. It's from Ulfric. He'd like you to have it."

And she passed the axe over.

"Would he now?" Balgruuf's eyebrows went up. "The man is persistent, I'll give him that."

He glanced to his steward, and sighed a little.

"Proventus, what do you make of this? If Ulfric were to attack Whiterun..."

"As in all things, lord, caution. I urge us to wait and see," the Imperial replied.

Irileth snorted.

"_Prey_ waits," she retorted.

"I'm of a mind with Irileth," the Jarl sighed. "It's time to act."

"You plan to march on Windhelm?" Proventus stared.

"I'm not a fool, Proventus," Balgruuf snorted. "I meant it's time to challenge Ulfric to face me as a man, or march his Stormcloaks up to the gates."

"He'll do no such thing!" the steward exclaimed. "A dagger in the _back_ is all you could expect!"

Auriel cocked her head slightly; the idea _did_ have merit, but it ultimately wasn't Ulfric's style. He was as all Nords were, entirely too straightforward.

"He was rather straightforward with Torygg," Irileth pointed out, echoing Auriel's thoughts.

"Torygg?" Proventus scoffed. "He simply walked up to the boy and _murdered_ him!"

"That 'boy' was High King of Skyrim," Irileth said shortly.

"I'm not the High King," Balgruuf interrupted the bickering impatiently. "But neither am I a boy. If Ulfric wants to challenge my rule in the old way, let him. Though I suspect he'll prefer to send his 'Stormcloaks' to do it for him."

"True," Irileth nodded. "He's already proven his personal strength. Now he seeks to prove his army's."

"Then might I urge you to consider General Tullius's request?" Proventus sighed. "I mean, if you are bent on offending Jarl Ulfric..."

"Ulfric is the one who has offended," Irileth snapped. Then she sighed too. "But... Proventus has a point. Ulfric has made it clear; in his mind, to refuse his claim is to side with the Empire."

"And what harm is there in letting a few Legionnaires die in place of your own men?" Proventus added.

"It seems... cowardly," Balgruuf grimaced.

"Was it cowardly then, to accept the White-Gold Concordant?"

Auriel stifled a smile at Irileth's decidedly low blow. The Concordant had been forced upon the Jarls, not offered. It wasn't quite the same situation, but that it was brought up amused her.

"This again?!" Balgruuf demanded. "That was different! Was I given a chance to object to the terms of the treaty? No. The Jarls weren't asked, we were told! And we had to like it..."

"The chests of gold didn't hurt," the steward muttered.

"Damnit!" Balgruuf glared at the man. "This isn't about gold!"

"It's time to decide," Auriel said, crossing her arms.

"Lord, wait," Proventus said hurriedly. "Let us see if Ulfric is serious."

"Oh, he's serious," Balgruuf said grimly. "But so am I."

"Finally," Irileth muttered.

"So, about this axe," he looked to Auriel, who uncrossed her arms and waited. "You can return the axe to our friend. The esteemed Jarl of Windhelm has my answer. Make sure he gets it."

She nodded, with a slight sigh of disappointment, accepting the axe once more. Balgruuf would be an enemy then, not an ally. It was sad... but there it was. She turned to go as Balgruuf called for paper and ink, knowing that the next time she set foot in this city, it would no doubt be in flames. She could only hope that the civilians would not be harmed.

Her return to Windhelm was quiet, and she found Ulfric and Galmar arguing in the map room, over where to target, it seemed. Galmar was convinced they were not moving fast enough, but Ulfric was more cautious about stretching out their supply lines. She waited for a break in the conversation then cleared her throat; Ulfric glanced up, and nodded at her lightly.

"Balgruuf said that you can have this back," She said, returning his axe.

"Then I was wrong about him," Ulfric sighed. "You were right, Galmar..."

"Again?" the burly man said dryly.

"I'm in no mood to joke," Ulfric frowned.

"Give the word, my lord, and Whiterun is yours," Galmar promised.

"Whiterun is only a means to an end..." Ulfric murmured.

"I've toured our camps. We're _ready_, Ulfric. Whenever you are."

"Is any man ever ready to give the order that will mean the deaths of many?"

The question was undoubtedly rhetorical, but Auriel responded anyways.

"No. But knowing when to give that order is what makes a wise person a leader," she said calmly. "As does knowing when to rescind it."

"You are that man, Ulfric," Galmar said firmly. "You've been that man before, and you'll be him again. And these men and women... they call themselves Stormcloaks because they _believe_ in you! They are the meanest, toughest sons and daughters of bitches Skyrim has to offer. And they _want_ this. They want this as much as you do! Perhaps they want it _more_."

"...you're certain we're ready?" Ulfric asked quietly. "Whiterun's army will no doubt be bolstered with Legionnaires and those walls around Whiterun are old, but they still stand."

"We're _ready_." Galmar nodded. "And I might be old myself, but I'll kick those damn walls down with my bare feet! If you would only ask me to do it."

Auriel cocked her head slightly, wondering if she'd ever felt so impassioned as they did about something like this. Yes... once. When she had wanted to end the Oblivion Crisis. She had done everything possible to do that and survive. And now she was going to have to do that again. It was harder to muster up the pure devotion, the drive and the will to make this work... she was so very tired of carving out her place in this land.

"Hah," Ulfric smiled slightly. "And I'm sure you could do it, too." Then he nodded. "All right. This is it."

"_Yes!_" Galmar's fierce grin was all over his face.

"Send the word," Ulfric continued. "'A new day is dawning, and the sun rises over Whiterun.'"

"Aye," Galmar nodded. "And the children of Skyrim will greet that dawn with teeth and swords flashing."

"So it begins," The Jarl murmured. Then he turned to Auriel. "Make haste to our camp in Whiterun. I want you on the front lines."

She blinked, taken aback.

"I have a feeling about you," he continued. "Your place is on that battlefield. I need you there."

"...very well," she nodded in acquiescence.

"Fight well," he said firmly, and to her surprise he reached out and clasped her hand. "Talos be with you."

This close, his charisma was almost hypnotic, and she nodded slightly. She could understand, a little, how people could follow him without reservation. Martin, the last son of the Septim dynasty, had been granted something similar.

She set out for the camp, though she knew she did not relish the idea of the fight to come. As she made her way there, other Stormcloaks, eager for battle, wended their way in as well, some boasting, others as silent as the elf mage. She was slightly heartened to see that among the Nords were some Khajiit, some Bosmer, and a few Imperials. They would not all be blood-tied to Skyrim, but they would all fight for their land with the unwavering desire of a people who wanted their freedom.

Ralof made it there on the second day, and greeted her with surprised warmth. She was somewhat glad to see that he had survived, but kept mostly to herself, refuting his attempts at idle chatter.

It took a few days for the camp to fill, and soon after it did, the siege weapons started hurling rocks and flaming boulders at Whiterun. Galmar gathered everyone in a group to address them.

"This is it men," he bellowed. "They say that our cause is false, and that we are nothing more than thieves, thugs, and murderers!"

"Pleasant weather for a war," Ralof muttered, stepping up beside her. "Don't you think?"

"Shhh."

"But no!" Galmar continued. "We are farmers! We are craftsmen! We are sons and daughters of shopkeepers, maid servants, and soldiers! We are the sons and daughters of Skyrim! And we have come this far because our cause is true! Because we fight as one! And because our hearts are _bursting_ with anger! What we do here today, we do for our country! For all the _true_ children of Skyrim! Whiterun's walls are tall, but they are old and crumbling, like the Empire whose Legion lines them. They're barricades to block us, but we'll tear through them, and the Imperials beyond! Our objective is the drawbridge. If we can find a way to drop it, the city will be ours! Everyone on me! Let's show the Legionnaire milk drinkers what _true_ children of Skyrim look like!"

The answering cheer was loud, almost loud enough to make the air vibrate, and the Stormcloaks piled after Galmar, weapons raised high against a sky the was already becoming brown and black with smoke. Auriel grimaced as she followed, preferring to pick her targets carefully. She was light enough and quick enough, but she wanted the Legionnaires to back off before she tried to climb to the gatehouse.

Ralof stayed at her elbow practically, shouting taunts and fending off enemies as she scrambled up the slope beyond the first barricade—burned to ashes by her own hands—and lowered the drawbridge. They waited for the others to catch up, fending off Legionnaires who wanted to try and raise it again, then rushed through the gates and into the city itself. More barricades were burned to ash and more soldiers, both Whiterun guards and Legionnaires fell before the might of the Stormcloaks.

Dragonsreach was not undefended either. It was here, however that Auriel refused to fight any further. Galmar, Ralof, and the rest could take credit for this; the destruction of one of her few comfortable places was not in her. She found a corner and, when neither Ralof nor Galmar were looking, activated her Nightingale ability, becoming completely invisible. The number of Stormcloaks overwhelmed the defenders, and Jarl Balgruuf was borne to the ground under their weight. Irileth fought like a woman possessed until the Jarl gained his breath.

"Enough!" He bellowed. "That's enough. I surrender... I... surrender. Everyone stand down. That's an order. Stand down!"

"Balgruuf!" came the bellow of an old man.

"Vignar Gray-Mane," Balgruuf spat. "Your family was noticeably absent from the walls. Now I know why. Wouldn't a dagger in the back have sufficed?"  
"You think this is personal?" the old man snorted. "The Empire has no place in Skyrim... not any more. And you? You have no place in Whiterun anymore."

"A convenient position to hold now," Balgruuf retorted. "But mark my words, old man; in the days to come, Ulfric will spread his rebellion thin. And what then? We need the Empire, as much as it needs us. We Nords _are_ the Empire! Our blood built it. Our blood _sustains_ it! _You_ of all people should know that."

"If this was my Empire, I'd be able to worship whoever I damn well pleased! You wish to see an Empire without Talos? Without its _soul_?" Vignar shot back.

Auriel dropped her invisibility and moved forwards, mostly to hear better. Ralof stayed at her side, a grin of triumph on his face.

"We should be _fighting_ those witch elves, not bending knee to them," the old man continued, ignoring Auriel's presence. Her lips thinned slightly. "The Emperor is nothing more than a _puppet_ of the Thalmor. Skyrim needs a High King who will fight for her, and Whiterun needs a Jarl who will do the same."

"Tell me, Vignar," Balgruuf sighed. "Was all this worth it? How many of those corpses lining our streets wear the faces of men who once called you friend? What about their families?"

"Enough! Both of you!" Galmar snapped. "There is a burning city out there that needs a government."

"He's right," Vignar sighed/ "Galmar, come, let's restore order."

"This isn't over," Balgruuf promised. "You hear me you old fool?! This isn't over!"

He turned to Auriel, who met his eyes, keeping her expression neutral. He glared at her too, and for a moment she saw a bit of Vilkas' anger in the Jarl's eyes.

"And you," he spat. "A Stormcloak? I'd thought better of you. You'll all come to regret this day."

"Whether I do or not, it was always my decision to make. I had hoped you would side with Ulfric, not against him, but you cast the die, and your number did not come up," she shrugged a little. "Now, I've been informed that you can leave safely, and my recommendation? Go to Solitude. Let them know that we are coming soon enough."

He spat at her feet, and she sighed lightly, almost as if she were disappointed by an ill-behaved child. As he stalked off she shook her head, and sighed again, a little mournfully.

"Go to Windhelm," Galmar said, giving her a light shove. "Tell Ulfric of our victory here. You can even take my horse."

"...If your horse could travel at something beyond a shamble, I'd take you up on that," she retorted.

He laughed, and moved off to help with subduing others and cleaning up. Ralof touched her shoulder lightly.

"We did a damn fine job today," he grinned down at her. "They'll tell stories of this for decades to come."

"Mmm... perhaps."

"Hey, what's the matter? You don't seem as enthused as I'd have thought..."

Auriel snorted, and frowned at him.

"Well, don't think then," she said sharply. "Go and enjoy your victory, and let me do what I need to do."

He stared at her for a long moment, then shrugged and turned away. Auriel just sighed in exasperation; he was as subtle as Farkas about the attraction, but lacked the subtle understreak of quietness and acceptance. Or even the cheery smart-ass charisma of Brynjolf. Whatever it was, she wouldn't have minded being a cautious friend, but she wasn't inclined towards going any further than that. He would either get it, or she would beat it into his thick skull.

Though the way things were going, it was likely the latter.

She stepped out of Dragonsreach and stood at the top of the stairs for a long moment, observing the destruction. From what she could see, the Gildergreen was unharmed, as was Jorrvaskr, and the temple. Some buildings were on fire, and it probably shouldn't have amused her that the Talos priest's house had been destroyed, but it did. The guards had surrendered now, and the Stormcloaks were taking their places, even if only briefly.

The smell of fire and smoke filled the air, mixing with the coppery tang of blood. Pain, anger, fear, and sorrow mingled in as well, and she moved quickly though the city, looking for the bite of fresh air before she found a place to become ill.

She had never seen the effects of war before. Not really. The aftermath, certainly, when people had acted on her information, but she had never been part of an invasion, or an attacking force. She did _not_ like it.

Luckily, no one had witnessed it, and after she rinsed her mouth out, she managed to shove some ashes and debris over it, then staggered upright and found a horse she could ride at a steady pace all the way back to Windhelm.


	25. Twenty-four: And then

Twenty four:

And then

After Whiterun, she was assigned to various encampments to which she was of use. She helped liberate Stormcloaks, take forts, and then, to her surprise, was given a few tasks that harkened back to her old ways; forging orders and blackmailing officials. She received a house from Ulfric—inadvertently solving a string of murders as she did so—and fended off Ralof's advances with a variety of scathing humor and sharp words. It didn't deter him much, but neither did he seem to take the insults personal. It took several months, and the fighting was vicious stuff, especially when Legionnaires were encountered on the roads. When she was alone it was one thing, and they would generally pass her by—mostly because she wasn't stupid enough to brandish her loyalty about like a flag. When she had her Stormcloak puppy following, however, that was a bit more on the aggravating side. He didn't much understand why she pretended to be neutral, and she had no intention of explaining it to him.

Several months passed in this way, and slowly eight of the nine holds came to rest under Stormcloak sway. Ulfric would occasionally ask Auriel her opinion on a matter; what surprised her was that he often listened. When she pointed out the troubles in the Gray Quarter of Windhelm, he actually tried to do something about it. It didn't _work_, but he did try, and Auriel herself was occasionally stopped and thanked by some of the Dunmer living in the city. She also made a pointed note that if he truly wanted a liberated Skyrim, he had to _not_ evict every single person who wasn't a Nord. It was more than the Nords' land at this point, and if they didn't coexist, then the war would continue, for years and years to come.

Galmar didn't much care for that opinion either, but she argued him down, and pointed out that if he were to exclude that many people, with diverse talents and skills, he was pretty much stabbing himself in the foot. The Thalmor were made up of Bosmer and Altmer, archers and mages both, and while you could swing a sword, magic was hard to block without magic. And an arrow in the dark killed as surely as any knife.

The attempts at arguing to just evict Altmer and Bosmer were met with similar disdain. It took her time, but eventually she pulled them around to the understanding that they were not going to be _able_ to get rid of all of the hidden Thalmor spies, and assuming every High Elf or Wood Elf was one would only tear them apart further. Closing the Embassy and evicting the overt Thalmor was all they could do for the moment.

Solitude was, at last, the final capital left to take. Auriel had spent several days in the camp, working on repairs to her armor and armaments, and silently going over the plans in her mind. They were to take Elisif alive, but Tullius was not so lucky. Any other former Jarls in the basement of the Blue Palace were to be left alone. There was no glory to be gained in their murder. She would have preferred to be anywhere but at the front of the line, but Ulfric had insisted that she stand at his right, even as Galmar stood at his left.

She hoped, fervently, that he would survive this day; she had no desire to suddenly be told she should take over for him, the way things had been done with the College, or the Companions.

Ah, the Companions... Her heart twisted a little in her chest, and she stared briefly down at the malachite she had been sewing in to replace some that had been damaged. She missed them. She wondered if they would accept her back after this, knowing that she'd been involved in the war. She wondered about Farkas; had he given up on her yet? Had he found another Nord to be with, as would have suited him better? Or perhaps another lady of the Companions?

She hadn't been back to Whiterun since that first battle. No doubt she had a hundred or more missives from the College and from the Guild as well. She was going to be occupied by a number of things when she finally made it back to Breezehome...

But mostly, she found herself longing to see her silver-eyed Nord. Would he welcome her back? Would he shun her the way his brother wanted to?

Impatiently she thrust the armor aside and went to stand on the edge of the cliff, overlooking the bay below. She was not so lost in thought that she didn't hear, or recognize the footsteps that came up behind her, nor the scent that crossed her nose, and she simply glanced sideways to see Ulfric lowering himself to a nearby rock.

"Can't sleep?" he asked.

"Shouldn't I say the same of you?" she replied neutrally.

"Perhaps. War takes its toll on everyone. You've never been forthright on how well you take it."

Auriel snorted a little.

"I don't like it," she said flatly. "I'm no front line fighter the way you lot seem to think. I'm a spell-caster, a shadow-stepper, a spy. I don't like seeing my own work close up."

"No one does," Ulfric sighed. "The nights I've lost sleep because I remember the feel of my blade passing through the flesh and bone of an enemy have gone beyond count. Knowing that you and Galmar are out here, and all the other brave warriors laying down their lives in this thankless war takes more of them. But don't you think those battles went smoother for your oversight?"

"Not really, no," she shrugged a little. "With or without me, they would have won, I think."

"You underestimate your own worth, my friend," Ulfric smiled faintly.

"I get told that a lot," Auriel sighed.

"Perhaps one day you'll believe it?"

"I doubt that. But like every choice I've made, I have to live with the decision, and I choose to not regret it. Everything I've done, every step I've taken since entering Skyrim, has been for my good, for once, and not for trouble. I suppose I owe your damned ambush some thanks."

Ulfric laughed.

"I never would have expected the red-haired elf who tried getting Thalmor attention would aid me," he admitted. "Running back to your Dominion and those islands of yours made more sense. Given that you took shelter with a known Imperial Legionnaire only helped ratify that idea."

Auriel glanced at him, then shrugged again.

"I'm not going to tell you my story yet, Ulfric Stormcloak," she said tartly, "though I know an unfair amount of yours."

"Your secrets are well-kept, elder sister," and he grinned at her when she made a face at him. "I, for one, wait with a hearty anticipation for the day when you _do_ tell them. I have no doubt they will be adventures and secrets worth knowing."

"Well, you certainly have the annoying little brother bit down," she huffed.

"Is it so hard to get used to, Auriel Stormblade?"

"...I've been Auriel Talmanari for almost three hundred fifty years now. You don't discard a name you're attached to easily. Besides, I look nothing like you, and thank all the gods for that."

He laughed again, and she smiled faintly. He didn't have any identifying features with Farkas, nor Brynjolf, but she had grown fond of this man who wanted to make a better Skyrim. He was very much the younger brother, and he did delight in bothering her on certain subjects. It reminded her much of her own siblings, lost in the Oblivion Crisis, as her whole family had been.

That had, in fact, been the leverage used by the Thalmor to help convince her to join. Promise of a new family. Promises they had never kept. But at the same time, had she never joined, she would not now be here, with very powerful people at her back, and the strength of dragons within her. It was, she decided, a mixed blessing, and she could take nothing back. There were still things she hadn't made her peace with, but...

"So, when you return to Whiterun, as you've been talking about for weeks, what is the first thing you will do?" Ulfric asked. "Meet a lover? Have a good meal?"

"Firstly, I will have a series of baths so I can scrub the grime and smell of war out of my skin," she said tartly. "Anything else is _hardly_ your business. Unless you mean to nose into my personal life as well..."

"Perish the thought," he held up his hands with a faint grin. "I will be far too busy between Solitude and Windhelm. I may have to appoint another Jarl for Windhelm, once the Moot meets and I am named High King."

"Don't even _think_ about it," she said warningly. "I will shove you into that river and drown you."

He snorted, and she grimaced. While it was good for him to be so confident about this, she was _beyond_ uninterested in being a Jarl. She preferred to roam Skyrim, taking things as they attacked or were explored. She had avoided being Harbinger and Guild Master for those same reasons.

"You have a battle to lead tomorrow," she said after a minute. "Go get some rest, why don't you?"

"Very well, very well. Oh, and tell Ralof if he continues to bother you after all of this is done, he'll have to have a few training bouts with Galmar first," Ulfric said wryly. "We both figured it would be better than you actually lighting him on fire."

Auriel blinked, and then, after a moment, snickered.

"Thanks, I think."

"You're welcome."

She stayed there at the overlook as the night whiled away; studying the stars and the dark moons as they passed by overhead. What _was_ she going to do when this was over, and she could safely return to Whiterun? Would she go visit the Companions? Could she make a trip to Riften to see how the Guild was doing? Could she settle, at last?

If there was one thing she knew, it was that she wanted to sit under the Gildergreen and read a book. That was a simple enough goal, one that didn't involve too much heart, and she could go with that as a place to start.

The day dawned clear, and somewhat chill; soon it would be winter in the warmer parts of Skyrim, which meant freezing rains and icy roads. They had picked a good time to end the fighting. More catapults lined the road, launching boulders and flaming rocks. Solitude had it's own, and several groups were forced to dodge the flying weaponry was they made for the gate, to stand before Ulfric Stormcloak, and listen to his rallying speech. Auriel stood with him, as did Galmar, and looked out over the sea of faces.

"Are you ready for this?" her murmured, lips barely moving.

"Not in the slightest," she replied in the same manner. "So let's get it over with."

He smiled faintly, and nodded, and she hoped very fervently that her luck would not turn as it so often had in the past. She had not come this far to let Ulfric die here.

"This is it men!" he cried. "It's time to make this city ours! We come to this moment carried by the sacrifices and courage of our fellows. Those who have fallen, and those still bearing the shields at our sides! On this day, our enemy will know the fullness of our determination, the true depth of our anger, and the exalted righteousness of our cause! The gods are watching. The spirits of our ancestors are stirring. And men under suns yet to dawn will be transformed by what we do here today! Fear neither pain nor darkness, for Sovngarde awaits those who die with weapons in their hands, and courage in their hearts. We now fight our way to Castle Dour, to cut the head off the Legion itself! And in that moment, the gods will look down and see Skyrim as she was meant to be. Full of people who are mighty, powerful and _free!_"

Auriel smiled faintly, pleased by his progress. People of Skyrim. Not Nords of Skyrim. In the past few months, he had come a long way.

"Ready now! Everyone _with me!_ For the sons and daughters of Skyrim!" He bellowed.

The cheer was loud; it vibrated through the air, and the earth underneath trembled as more stones landed in the dirt beyond. The army Ulfric had built up charged the gates and battered them bodily down, then scattered to take on Legionnaires. Auriel stayed with Ulfric and Galmar, darting in and out of combat with flames, and breaking down barricades as needed until they reached Castle Dour and General Tullius.

"Secure the door," Ulfric said quietly, as he stepped through.

"Already done," Galmar smirked.

"Good."

They entered the next room, finding Tullius and the Legate. Neither had weapons drawn. Tullius was seated, while the Legate stood before him, shielding him with her body.

"Ulfric _stop_," the Legate demanded.

"Stop what?" he demanded. "Taking Skyrim back from those who'd leave her to rot?"

"You're _wrong_ Ulfric," she retorted. "We need the Empire! Without it, Skyrim will surely fall to the Dominion!"

"You were there with us," Galmar growled. "You saw it. The day the Empire signed that damn treaty was the day the Empire died."

"...also the Dominion wouldn't want you to stop fighting," Auriel added idly. "A unified Skyrim is a threat. A warring Skyrim is a grand amusement. A warring _Empire_ is precisely what they want."

The Legate stared at her, and Galmar let out a bark of humorless laughter.

"You're damned fools," the Legate sighed.

"Stand aside, Rikke," Galmar snapped. "We've come for the General."

"He has given up," she frowned. "But I have not."

"Rikke, _go_," Ulfric ordered. "You're free to leave."

"I'm also free to stay and fight for what I believe in!" Rikke shot back.

"You're also free to die for it," Ulfric sighed.

"This is what you wanted?" Rikke demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. "Shield brothers and sisters killing each other? Families torn apart? _This_ is the Skyrim you want?!"

"Damnit woman, stand aside!" Galmar ordered.

"That's not the Skyrim _I_ want to live in," she continued, drawing her sword.

"Rikke, you don't have to do this," Ulfric said quietly.

"You've left me no choice," she replied. "Talos preserve us."

She launched into the fight, and Tullius, seemingly impassioned by her words, joined in. Rikke went down first, at the hands of Galmar, and together he and Ulfric knocked Tullius to the ground. Auriel stayed out of it, weary of the fighting.

"Enough..." Tullius gasped. "...Enough..."

"This is it for you," Ulfric said solemnly. "Any last words before I send you to Oblivion?"

"You realize this is exactly what they wanted?" Tullius asked wearily. His eyes skipped over the two men and focused on Auriel.

"What who wanted?" Galmar growled.

"The Thalmor. They stirred up trouble here. Forced us to divert needed resources an throw away good soldiers quenching this rebellion."

Both men glanced at Auriel, and she nodded. It was hardly a secret now anyways.

"It's a little more than a rebellion, don't you think?" Ulfric asked.

"Hah," Galmar smirked.

"We aren't the bad guys, you know," Tullius sighed.

"Maybe not, but you certainly aren't the good guys," Ulfric retorted.

"Perhaps you're right. But then, what does that make you?"

"You just said it yourself," Ulfric murmured.

"It makes us _right_," Galmar growled.

"And if I surrender?" Tullius asked.

"The Empire I remember never surrendered," was Ulfric's retort.

Auriel sighed a little and shook her head. While it was true that leaving Tullius alive would cause more problems than it solved, Ulfric was going a little too far here.

"That Empire is dead," Galmar said flatly. Then he looked at Tullius. "And so are you."

"...so be it."

"If you're going to kill him, kill him," Auriel said impatiently. "Be done with it. Talk like this is a delaying tactic, and that door will not hold forever."

"Come now," Ulfric chided her gently. "Where's your sense of the dramatic moment."

Auriel made a face at him.

"Dramatic moments usually end up getting the other person killed," she retorted.

"By the gods," Galmar groaned. "If it's a good ending to some damn story you're after, why not let _her_ do it? She _is_ Dragonborn, after all."

Ulfric looked at her, and Auriel shook her head.

"I've had enough of war and death, Ulfric. It's your story; _you_ end it."

"As you wish, my sister."

Auriel rolled her eyes and stepped aside. Ulfric lifted his war axe high, and in one swift strike, removed Tullius' head from his shoulders.

"Good," Galmar sighed. "It's done."

"...well, I suppose some kind of speech is in order?" Ulfric said after a moment. "Auriel, will you stand at my side? I wish to honor you, Dragonborn, and the truest of Stormcloaks."

Auriel hesitated, then shook her head lightly.

"It might well be for the best that you leave me out of this," she said softly. "Allow me my anonymity."

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow. "Why is that?"

"My reasons are my own, Ulfric, and you are not ready to hear them."

"A person's heart is their own," he sighed. "I will honor your request, though it casts a bit of gloom on an otherwise auspicious day. Come. At the very least, walk out with me?"

He offered her his arm, in a surprisingly court-like gesture. She blinked at him, snorted a little, and obligingly took it.

"I'll gather the men in the courtyard," Galmar volunteered.

"And Elisif?" Ulfric asked as they walked towards the door.

"Don't you worry about her," the gruff man smirked. "I sent my best men to round her up."

"Then let's be off and make this speech then..."

It took about thirty minutes for everyone to gather in the courtyard, and for Elisif to be brought from the Blue Palace. She looked bewildered, but unhurt. Ulfric stood at the head of the parade grounds, and sighed a little. Auriel stood back from him a bit, silent support, and Galmar stood on his other side.

"I am indeed Ulfric Stormcloak," Ulfric said. "And indeed there are many that call me hero. But, it is all of you who are the true heroes! It was _you_ who fought a dying Empire who sunk its claws into our land, trying to drag us down with it. It was _you_ who fought the Thalmor and their puppet who would have us deny our gods and our heritage. It was _you_ who fought for your kin who didn't understand our cause, who weren't willing to pay the price for our freedom. But more than that, it was _you_ who fought for Skyrim, for our right to fight our own battles! To return to our glory and traditions, to determine our _own_ future!"

The air filled with cheers, and Ulfric let them die down naturally.

"And it is for these reasons that I cannot accept the mantle of 'High King,'" he continued. "Not until the Moot declares that title should adorn my shoulders will I accept it."

"And what about Jarl Elisif?" one of the soldiers asked.

"Yes, what _about_ the Lady Elisif?" Ulfric replied. Auriel rolled her eyes slightly as Ulfric looked straight at the bewildered woman. His love for the dramatic was, occasionally, completely exhausting. "Will she put aside her personal hatred for me and her misplaced love for the Emperor and his coin, so that the suffering of our people will end? Will she acknowledge that it is we, the people who love Skyrim, that will determine its future? Will she swear fealty to me, so all may know that we are at peace, and a new day has dawned?"

It wasn't like she was being given much choice. Elisif sought out Auriel's expression and the Altmer mage nodded fractionally. It was, really, the only choice available.

"I do!" Elisif said firmly.

"Then it is settled!" Ulfric cried. "The Jarl will continue to rule Solitude; I will garrison armies here to ward off Imperial attempts to reclaim the city. And in due time, the Moot _will_ meet and settle the claim to High King once and for all. There is much to do, and I need every able-bodied man and woman committed to rebuilding Skyrim. A great darkness is growing, and soon we will be called to fight it, on these shores, or abroad. The Aldmeri Dominion may have defeated the Empire, but it has _not_ defeated Skyrim!"

Another cheer, louder this time, and Auriel smiled faintly.

As the soldiers scattered, Ulfric turned to Galmar, and Auriel stepped up on his other side.

"How'd I do?" Ulfric asked wearily.

"Eh," Galmar shrugged. "Not so bad. Nice touch about the High King."

"Thank you," he smiled a little. "I thought so too."

"It's a foregone conclusion, you know," Galmar pointed out.

"Oh, I know," Ulfric shrugged a little.

"The Imperials aren't going to leave us alone," the gruff-voiced man added after a moment. "They still have camps in the hills. They'll continue to strike out at us, whenever and wherever they can."

"I'm not afraid of the remnants of the legion," Ulfric said contemptuously. "In time, they'll give up and go home. What I fear is that the Thalmor will see our victory here, and turn greater attention to our shores. We must be prepared to face them."

"Aye," Galmar growled. Auriel nodded her own agreement.

"And naturally we couldn't have done this without you," Ulfric said, clasping her shoulder lightly. She still jumped at the casual contact. "May the gods preserve you, Auriel Stormblade."

"May the gods preserve us all," Galmar muttered.

"Come, Galmar," Ulfric nodded a little. "We've still much work to do."

The old warrior nodded, and Ulfric gave Auriel a friendly push.

"Be sure to drop by whenever you're in town," he said. "I may have need of your wise advice, and your Aldmeri knowledge."

"I'm going to sleep for a week, and then I'll think about it," she retorted, though she gave him a faint smile. "Walk always with the gods, Ulfric."

He bowed lightly, and left. Auriel sighed, and pulled her helmet off, wiping her forehead and smearing ash and dirt into the mess that already coated her. She spared a moment to think longingly about a hot bath, before Ralof all but pounced on her, picked her up and swung her around in exuberant delight. He wasn't the only one celebrating either, but he _was_ the only one mad enough to bother her with his glee, and she wasted no time in introducing her armored elbow to his helmeted head hard enough to make the helmet ring.

"Ouch!" he complained, dropping her back down to the ground. "What's the matter, can't I hug you in celebration now?"

"Since I've informed you several times that I don't want you to hug me at _all_, yes," she replied tartly, rubbing her elbow. His helmet and his head were both hard as rocks. "Though I must ask, where will you go now?"

"Me?" he blinked, then grinned a little. "Probably back to Riverwood for a while; see my sister and my nephew. Then I'll be part of Ulfric's personal guard! Galmar said it would be the perfect place for me."

Auriel blinked a few times, nonplussed, then stifled a laugh; Galmar had done that, undoubtedly, to keep him entirely out of her way! It was nice to know that she'd altered the tough old bear's perception of her enough so that he respected her more.

"What about you? Where are you going?"

"Whiterun. Maybe Riften. It depends on who wants to see me more."

"Who?" Ralof's eyebrows went up. "Are you leading people on in two cities then?"

"Bite your tongue," Auriel snorted. "I have _friends_ you rock-headed Nord. Nothing more, nothing less. And I have other responsibilities that I have been neglecting for a good long while now that I need to take care of. No doubt my house will be filled to overflowing with letters and pleas for information that I have."

"What sort of responsibilities could a dainty thing like you have?" Ralof scoffed.

"Well, I _am_ the Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold."

He gaped, and Auriel smiled a sharp smile. Then she turned on her heel and walked off; she would have to ride a horse for days until she could reach Whiterun, so the sooner she started off, the better.

And she honestly couldn't wait to go home.


	26. Twenty-five: Home

Twenty five:

Home

Riften hadn't even been touched by the war. Auriel didn't know whether to be envious or just accept it. In truth, she was actually a little bit jealous of it. There was more revelry in the streets than anger and dissent. It was a far cry from the crabby numbers of Whiterun. She had only stopped there to get a cart ride the rest of the way to Riften, having decided that it was best to look in on the Guild first.

After her multitude of hot baths, of course.

Her housecarl was inclined to object to Auriel shooing her out of the house, but Auriel insisted, and eventually won. An empty house was a welcome blessing, and she indeed took a series of scalding baths to rid herself of the layers of grime and ash that had worked their way into her skin and her hair. She soaked so long in her final bath that she almost fell asleep in it, but fortunately her instincts kept her from going under.

She hung up her armor and armaments, with the intention of going over them later for repairs and replacements, pulled on some of the softest nightclothes she had, and practically fell into bed.

Around midnight she heard the faintest of creaks as her door slipped open, and she shifted slightly, slipping a hand up under her pillow where she kept a dagger. No one in their right mind would try and steal from _her_, so it was either friendly faces, or assassins.

The opened door brought a breeze with it, carrying two familiar scents, one of spice, and one of old stone and water. She relaxed fractionally; Karliah and Brynjolf were no threat to her. She heard one set of light footsteps head downstairs, another came over to the opposite side of her bed, and waited.

"...I know you're not asleep, Tam," Brynjolf said dryly. "I can see that hand under your pillow."

She snorted a little and half sat up, then rubbed her eyes. Brynjolf was, for the first time in a while, not in armor of any sort, but in the fine clothes she'd seen him wearing while he worked his shop of 'miracle cures.' Of course that shop was entirely defunct now, but still. It was surprising.

"You couldn't come in the morning?" she asked, making a face at him.

"It's after midnight, doesn't that count?" he grinned.

"...remind me to stab you next time," she grumbled.

"I told him this was a bad idea," Karliah murmured, coming back up the stairs to lean against the wall. She too was out of armor, and wearing a purple and black dress that suited her dark coloration. The brown hair was a bit surprising, but after a moment Auriel decided that it didn't look that bad on the Dunmer woman. "But he has this habit of not listening to me."

"Perish the thought, Karliah," he chuckled a little. "I listen to you when it's about thievery."

Auriel rolled her eyes as Karliah let out a delicate snort.

"While the banter is cute, and I'm glad to see you both, it's been a long journey, and I want _some_ sleep. Like, say, a week's worth."

"Aye, we heard you'd gone and gotten yourself involved in the war," Brynjolf nodded. "When we heard you were back in town, we decided we'd come say hello. And maybe play guard."

"...that's sweet, but I do have a housecarl."

"Where?" Karliah asked.

"I kicked her out for a few days." Auriel shrugged. "I didn't want company while bathing, and I still don't want company. There's... some things I haven't yet come to terms with, and I prefer doing it on my own."

"Why's that?" Brynjolf asked, sitting himself down on the edge of the bed.

"...because," Auriel frowned at him. "It's private and personal."

"Oh come now, can't you tell us?"

"Let it go, Brynjolf," Karliah said quietly. "There are some things that just can't _be_ spoken of."

Auriel nodded a little in quiet thanks, and Brynjolf sighed.

"All right, all right... should we come back another time, then?"

"...no, I suppose you can stay, since you're already here," Auriel sighed a little, and it was slightly theatrical; in truth, their company was more welcome than she'd expected. "Though _I_ will be going back to sleep, thank you. I'm exhausted."

"Aye, you look it. Don't worry, we'll be quieter than mice," Brynjolf grinned.

Auriel didn't even have to think about it; she grabbed the spare pillow and smacked him with it. He reeled mockingly, and Auriel used her foot to shove him the rest of the way off the bed. Karliah chuckled softly as the redheaded Nord picked himself up off the floor, and made a mocking show of dusting himself off. Auriel just grinned.

"_You_ can sleep downstairs, you roguish trouble-causer," she snorted. "I'd rather Karliah's company."

"You wound me to the quick, lass," Brynjolf placed both hands over his heart dramatically, affecting a drunken stumble to his walk.

Auriel brandished her own pillow threateningly, and he laughed, then trotted down the stairs. She had no doubt he'd appropriate Iona's room. After a moment she set the pillows back where they belonged and stretched back out. Karliah hesitated, then sat on the bed in the empty spot.

"You trust me more than Brynjolf?" the Dunmer asked softly.

"...I trust you not to _start_ anything, yes," Auriel yawned. "Nords are all alike, I've noticed. Most lacking in subtlety, and the inability to recognize when a lady wants only friendship. Brynjolf is _slightly_ more clever than that, but on the whole, I just want rest, and to... come to terms with what happened."

"Ah, I see," Karliah chuckled softly. "Yes, he does do that from time to time. He can be quite the fussy person. He kept his ear to the ground on news of the war, trying to pick up anything he could to assure himself that you were still alive."

"...mmm... I suppose that's understandable, since the only time I was in Whiterun in these past months was when we were attacking it," Auriel yawned again, and curled up a little more under the blanket. "Well, I'm not dead... Just ask me questions later..."

"We will. Now rest."

While sharing a bed with someone wasn't new to her, it was different to share it with a friend that she knew would guard her back She didn't let her guard down completely, but she slept deeper and longer than she probably would have on her own. Her dreams were untroubled, for the first time in a long while, and when she woke, it was because Brynjolf dropped a pan on her kitchen floor.

"I told you not to touch it," Karliah said dryly. "I was waiting for it too cool a bit before I moved it. You're lucky it was empty already."

"You can quit laughing now," he retorted with a huff. "It's not _that_ funny."

Auriel slipped silently out of bed, and changed while they bickered companionably. She had braided up her hair after the bath, and decided it could stay like that for a few days. Then she leaned in the doorway and watched them work curiously; it was admittedly odd to see them both working on making food. It wasn't a skill she associated with either of them, though Karliah seemed to have a masterful touch at it, while Brynjolf... well, he tried.

"Well, at least you won't burn a house down trying to cook, Bryn," Auriel teased as he set aside another pot.

He huffed at her in mock hurt, and she shook her head. In truth, they'd done a fairly good job at providing her with food; she would have just bought something at the Bee and Barb instead of cooking. Not that she _couldn't_, but it was not her typical pastime.

The table was well laden with things; dumplings and sweet rolls, bread, butter, cheeses, fruits, as well as some grilled chicken, and other things. Auriel raised an eyebrow slightly. This was more food than the three of them would be able to eat in one sitting.

"We figured we'd stick around for a couple of days, and fill you in on everything you missed over here," Brynjolf said with a winsome smile. "It's been a busy few months, after all, and you've missed out on a lot."

"...remind me to throw a boot at you next time," Auriel shook her head a little as she sat down in one of the chairs.

"If he forgets, I'll do it for you," Karliah chuckled softly.

"Well, if it's the price to pay to have the attention of two lovely ladies, I suppose I could take a few boots," Brynjolf grinned.

"Armored."

"Oh, now that's just mean, Tam," he sighed dramatically. "And here we are being so nice to you!"

"I never said you weren't. Just that at some point I'll throw my boot at you."

The food and company were well-appreciated, though Auriel chose to not let on how much. She hadn't though she would _need_ the company of friends, but after the aggravations of Ralof, and the exhausting nature of the war, those who made few demands on her energy were quite welcome.

As promised, Brynjolf and Karliah took turns in filling her in on the things she'd missed. The Guild was back in full swing, with the Ragged Flagon once more being part of a city under the city. The treasury was filling up with gold and jewels aplenty, and while they hadn't recovered all the plans that Mercer had stolen, there was a good chunk of new ones just waiting for approval.

In turn, she told them bits and pieces about the war, Ulfric, and how it had all finally played out. Brynjolf was terribly impressed at the fact that she had been named a family member of the influential Jarl. He was also terribly amused by Ralof's bumbling pursuit of her, and she had to kick him off his chair to make him stop laughing. Karliah was much more sympathetic to that particular irritation, and 'accidentally' dumped her mug of cold water over Brynjolf's head to help him stop laughing.

A damp Brynjolf made Auriel grin, though she held back the laughter. He spluttered and complained that he was being ganged up on, which was the truth, and neither elf was inclined towards sympathy. He went on to lament about their cruelty until Auriel leaned over and dumped _her_ mug of water on him. Karliah giggled unrepentantly, and Auriel smirked.

She felt... not _quite_ safe, but well protected enough to let her guard down some, and linger in places where before she would have been agitating to be on the move. She spent several weeks in Riften, going over Thieves Guild activities, the first time in a long while she'd stayed there without worrying about the Thalmor. In fact, they were a secondary concern to keeping the rabble of thieves in line and properly directed at useful targets.

When she visited Nightingale Hall, at Karliah's request, she found the hall in somewhat better repair. Brynjolf was busy with a number of tasks Auriel had asked him to coordinate, since Karliah's request had been to come alone, and in truth, Auriel was more than happy to let him handle it. While he had stayed firmly on the friend side of her personal boundaries, she caught him occasionally giving her softer looks, no doubt wishing to be closer than that. While she appreciated the Nord, she wanted his friendship, and his loyalty. He could love her if he so chose, but she knew that he wasn't the one for her.

Karliah nodded in greeting, and motioned for Auriel to join her; the days of camaraderie, aided by Brynjolf's presence, had worn away the last of the ire Auriel held for the Dunmer's trickery. So Auriel sat in a nearby chair that was more comfortable than initially expected, and cocked her head a little curiously.

"I'm glad you came alone," Karliah smiled ruefully. "Brynjolf is quite pleased to have you back, you know."

"Yes. I hope he doesn't expect me to stay, however," Auriel shrugged a little. "I have other places to look into soon."

"Auriel... he told me that the Thalmor are hunting you. Have you ever figured out why?"

The redhead shook her head.

"They have a greater reason to hunt me now, of course, but Ulfric is working on closing their Embassy and escorting them out of the country," she replied. "I had _hoped_ to be less conspicuous than I was, but that idiot Nord... He insisted I take part in things that I have no desire towards doing."

"You speak both fondly and irritably of Ulfric," Karliah chuckled a little. "I suppose your closeness to the situation granted you that sort of familiarity with him, mm?"

"Well, he named me sister, and called my Stormblade, for all it still feels an oddness," Auriel shrugged a little. "And he certainly settled into the role of annoying younger brother easily enough."

"With his influence, you can go anywhere, do anything," Karliah said. "So I have to wonder why you're hiding here, with the Guild?"

"...I suppose I'm not yet ready to return to Whiterun," Auriel sighed. "I know I should go back, but how many people saw me in the mix of soldiers, moving through barricades to get up to Dragonsreach. How many will make me as a hero, and how many an enemy?"

"Is that really all you're worried about?" Karliah's expression was skeptical.

"They are not small problems, Karliah. The number of places where I may well be considered an enemy is much greater now. I may not entirely fear for my life, but I know well that the Battle-Borns, at least, would probably enjoy shoving a sword down my throat."

Both mer were quiet for a while, then Auriel sighed.

"I'm tired of fighting. Protecting myself is one thing, but the war was... it was _bad_, Karliah. Some nights I can't sleep for the memories of the wounded crying in pain, the smell of blood and ash in the air. Perhaps it is cowardly of me, but I want to see Whiterun whole again, not scarred by the war."

"If that's the case, where will you go next?"

"Probably up to Winterhold. Tolfdir was saying he wanted me to watch a few students and asses them to see if they were ready to move up a grade of spells. It'll be cold, but it'll also be one of the safer places," she smiled dryly. "Unless the mages want to let someone across the bridge, it's generally not going to happen. Once the furor of post-war patriotism and anger have died down a bit more... maybe then..."

"What about the Companions? Don't you think they'll be worried?"

Auriel snorted a little, and smiled wryly.

"I suppose Bryn told you about that too... The only one I expect to really worry about me is Farkas, and..." She went quiet for a long moment. "I have to come to terms with a few things before I'll be ready to see him again."

"...you love him, don't you?"

"I don't know, Karliah. That's the problem. I _know_ he cares about me, and... it's confusing. Part of me thinks he'd be better served by someone his own height and speed, and part of me doesn't care to consider that idea. The things I'm involved in... I just... I don't know."

Karliah smiled sympathetically.

"Why not tell me about him?" the Dunmer asked gently. "Maybe talking your way through it will help. It certainly helped me when I was trying to decide about Gallus... though I regret now that I spoke to Mercer about it at all."

Auriel snorted, a faint, reluctant smile crossing her face.

"Well, hopefully you won't do that. You and Bryn are close now, hmmm?~" the redhead teased.

"Yes, but not _that_ close," Karliah blushed, making Auriel snicker. "Like you two, we are only close friends. I learned that lesson well, and have no desire to get involved with a fellow Nightingale."

Auriel chuckled a little, and shrugged lightly.

"He's a Nord, big, burly, and dark haired. Silver eyes. He's... kind. Patient. Perhaps ridiculously attached to me, though I am not sure I understand why. I think he sees an ideal, and the ideal is not who I am... His brother calls him slow, and I admit, he does tend to be rather simplistic in terms of thought, but he's also observant. He trusts me..."

Auriel's voice trailed off, and she sighed a little. Karliah smiled sympathetically.

"You have a hard time with trusting anyone, don't you?" she asked.

"I didn't always, but after a while, it just becomes second nature. It's easier to not trust, and to live on your own. Safer too, in many ways."

"What sort of life were you living?"

"The kind I still don't want to talk about, but you can probably guess, since you have many of the pertinent details," Auriel sighed a little. "Suffice to say, I don't even know if I _can_ love. I can care. I can guard my friendships, but... anything beyond is dangerous. All it takes is one slip, and all I've done will be _un_done, because they will know."

"...as much as there is great folly in love, there is great strength in it too," Karliah said softly. "A trust far greater than anything else can bolster a wounded spirit, and to have someone at your back, without question or worry... it can be a wonderful thing."

"Yes, but the trust has to be mutual... I don't know if I can do that."

"You can try," Karliah said gently. "I know you trust Brynjolf, and myself. You trust that Galmar fellow, and Ulfric. And Tolfdir. Perhaps the numbers are few, but you do know how to trust... you just need to try."

"...maybe. I don't know," Auriel sighed. "But regardless, I have a number of things to do before I head in that direction. The Jarls aren't yet pressing for the Moot, but I told Ulfric I'd be there when it came... He also wanted me to go about getting more formal training in the Voice."

"Will you run forever from this feeling, my friend?" Karliah asked.

"Stop. I know you mean well, but stop. It is my business, not yours, and I will deal with it as I see fit."

Auriel frowned at the Dunmer woman, who sighed and nodded. The talk turned away from heavy emotions into more neutral areas; how to fix up Nightingale Hall further, and the number of escape routes the thieves in the Guild were coming up with.

After lingering for a while longer, Auriel made good on her word and took fond leave of her friends to go north to Winterhold and the College. She was greeted warmly, and with praise from almost everyone she met that had been keeping an ear to the ground about the war. Winterhold had been strictly neutral, but unlike Whiterun, they hadn't been strategically important enough to mess with, and had accepted the idea of Ulfric in charge willingly enough. To hear that their own Arch-Mage had been at the forefront of the war meant that she spent several meetings simply telling them everything that had happened.

In a way, talking about everything she'd seen, while not pleasant, assuaged a part of her that was aching over it. She had not gone to war for fame or glory, she had gone to war because it was an expedient method for getting the Thalmor out of the country. She had seen horrible things up close and personal, and she regretted them. But she also accepted them.

She spent a few weeks in Winterhold, trying to consider her options. She was safer now than she had been in a very long time. Yes, the Embassy was still currently open and operating, but the likelihood of her being targeted was smaller; she had too many influential people backing her, and many of them would go after someone who attempted to attack her without a second thought,

Maybe it _was_ okay to admit that Farkas was more important to her than she'd initially wanted him to be.

Whiterun, when she finally returned to the city, was quiet. It had been well-repaired after the fighting had finished, and other than a few places, most everything looked the way it was supposed to. Her own home had been locked up tight, so other than a few things rattled off the shelves and onto the floors, it was untouched.

She still waited for dusk before she made her silent way up to the Gildergreen, settling onto her favorite bench. The Amulet of Mara was hidden under her clothes; she didn't want people getting the wrong idea, after all. She didn't want just _anyone_. She wanted Farkas. But she wanted to talk to him first, before she committed fully to the idea. Auriel hoped that he was in town, and not out on one of the many jobs of the Companions. If he wasn't, she was going to feel downright silly for sitting here.

Still, the tree was nice. And with the Talos priest still busy repairing his house, he didn't have the time or energy to bellow his sermons at passing people. There was a slight, lingering tension in the air, but on the whole, it was a wonderfully relaxing evening to be under the tree. She let her mind drift, idly turning over new ideas in her head. She had certainly put off visiting the Graybeards long enough... Had it been a year, or longer?

It was hard to imagine she'd been in Skyrim for such a short time. She'd become so familiar with it that it felt more like three. She smiled faintly, tipping her head back to watch the stars come out through the branches of the Gildergreen. Who would have thought that all of what she'd done would take so little time. She wasn't untouchable, not entirely, but she was much harder to get at now.

"A... Auri?"

She startled slightly, and glanced up. It was probably the first time she hadn't heard Farkas approach, and when she caught sight of him she saw why. It was odd seeing him in cityfolk clothing instead of armor, but she found she rather liked it. The stunned look on his face made her smile faintly; he looked like someone had just clocked him with a piece of wood, all unbelieving and... well, rather like a puppy. She stood up fluidly, and offered him that faint smile.

"Hello Far. It's been a while."

Hesitantly he stepped forward, lifted a hand, then immediately dropped it. It was clear he wanted to touch her, and make sure she was real, but he recalled well her aversion to casual contact.

"Eorlund said you'd gone to war..." he said uncertainly.

"War's over. Mostly. I'm not dead, if that's what you're thinking. It takes a lot more than... all of that, to kill me."

She was quiet for a long moment, simply studying him. He looked tired, she decided, and there were fine lines of worry on his face that indicated he'd been brooding more than he ought to. Unlike Ralof, however, he respected her desire to not be touched, no matter how clearly his body language said he wanted to hold her. She sighed a little, and stepped forward until she could rest her head against his chest.

"I'm home, you goon," she murmured softly. "I'm home."

Slowly, his arms came up until they were wrapped around her gingerly. He was trembling a little, clearly wanting to hold her tightly, and just as clearly holding himself back. Peace slid through her, a subtle easing of tension she hadn't even known she'd been carrying. A weight slid from her shoulders, and she leaned against him more firmly.

"Yeah..." his voice was a little hoarse, and very soft. "Welcome home."

That was the right word for it, she decided, lifting her arms to loosely drape around his waist. This was home. Right here in his arms, was home. He tightened his own hold in response to her, and she listened to the beating of his heart for several long minutes. She didn't want to end the peace, and the comfort, but... but if she was going to let this happen, well, he had the right to know a few things about her.

"Far?"

"Y...yeah?"

"Would you come with me for a little bit? There's... something I need to tell you."

She felt him tense, and had to smile faintly, a little sadly.

"It may change your perception on some things, but... but you have earned the right to know."

"...okay. Where to?" he asked.

"Follow me."

She was reluctant to step out of his hold, but when she slipped her hand into his, he followed along willingly enough. She brought him back to her house, and felt him tense up again. She snorted a little, and pushed him gently to a chair.

"You attraction to me is possibly the worst kept secret of the Companions," she teased him gently as he fidgeted uncertainly. "You are far too easy to read, you know that, right?"

"Ah, yeah..." he rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously, a little sheepishly.

"Will you listen to what I have to say?"

"Yeah."

So she told him everything, starting from Helgen, and moving on through her adventures. She told him that she had once been a Thalmor spy, but no longer, that she was the Arch-Mage of the College, and the Thieves Guild Master. She spoke of her friendship with Ulfric, Brynjolf, Karliah and Tolfdir. She wasn't sure how much of it he understood, and there was a long silence when she was finished. Metaphorically, she held her breath, wondering what he would make of it all. But she would make no excuses for her actions, and he had to understand that if he wanted to be with her, he was going to be in danger.

He sat in the chair long enough for Auriel to become more bored and a little hungry instead of anxious, and she got up to make something to eat.

"You were with the Thalmor," he finally said, "but not anymore?"

"At this point, they probably want to kill me for a grand _variety_ of things, so no. Not anymore. Not ever again."

"...okay."

She blinked, and looked at him over her shoulder. He had shifted the chair around so that he could look back.

"Okay?"

"You're you," he said simply. "I trust you."

Auriel stared a little, then quickly looked back down at the food she was preparing. Even after all that, knowing her faults, knowing her past... he trusted her? She heard him get up, and didn't move, trying to understand the enormity of the weight he had just lifted from her, the fear that was now simply gone. He trusted her. He _trusted_ her.

When he wrapped his arms around her gingerly, she turned into his hold and threw her own around his neck, holding on tightly. She felt more than saw his surprise, and he nuzzled at her a little after a moment. She wasn't crying, no, but there was such a profound sense of relief that it was hard to let anything else in.

"Auri? Are you okay?"

"Yeah... just... give me a few moments. Please."

"Okay."

He just held her, nuzzling her gently every now and then. After a couple minutes he cautiously lifted a hand and let it run over her hair. She relaxed against him, little by little, and finally let out a long breath.

"...I wouldn't want a... public ceremony," she murmured quietly, fishing around under her collar. "But I have an amulet of Mara here..."

He shifted, and rested his hand carefully over hers.

"We can do whatever you want," he said simply.

"No ceremony?"

"No ceremony."

"You'll just... stay with me?"

"Yeah."

She paused, and then chuckled a little.

"So, wait, who's proposing to whom, exactly?" she teased.

Farkas hesitated, then kissed her forehead.

"Does it matter? I want to be with you. That's enough."

"...you're right. It is."


	27. Twenty-six: Graybeards

Twenty six:

Graybeards

Married life, or what passed for it, was not too different from her normal life, save that now Farkas tended to tag along with her everywhere when she left the house. Of the Companions, only Vilkas had been less than pleased, but had managed to put it aside long enough to congratulate them. She didn't expect they would ever be friends, but being civil would certainly do.

She wrote to the handful of people she considered a friend, informing them of the change in her status, and the letters that returned were inundated with a myriad different pieces of marriage advice, and congratulations. Brynjolf sent along a ring that he _said_ was supposed to add virility to the bedroom. Auriel resolved to throw something at him next time she saw him. Farkas hadn't asked for anything like that, and she hadn't initiated, taking more comfort in being held than in any sort of sexual contact.

Ulfric sent his congratulations, but in his letter was also the reminder that she ought to go up and visit the Graybeards, to better learn how to control her Voice. She rolled her eyes and sent a dry response, characteristic of her own thoughts on the matter, then thought about actually doing it for a while.

She turned the idea over in her head for a few weeks, as she showed Farkas to her favorite homestead, then decided that it couldn't hurt to ask him. Give him the choice of staying or going.

"Far?"

"Yeah?"

"You remember me complaining about the letter I received from Ulfric a few weeks ago?"

He nodded a little, giving her a curious look.

"...what would you think about coming with me to visit the Graybeards? You don't have to, of course, but... Well, I would appreciate your company."

He was quiet for a couple minutes, then shrugged faintly.

"I'll go where you go," he said.

Auriel blinked, then smiled. The simplicity of the response was entirely characteristic of her husband, and it was a soothing balm for an uneasy decision. He smiled back, and cuddled her fondly.

Ivarstead hadn't changed much since her last visit; it was still the same sleepy town it had been when she'd almost been blown up by a spell. But now she could take her time and appreciate it a little more; it was a lovely spot. It was made better by the fact that she wasn't alone; Farkas was impressed by the view too, and even armored up as they were, he still tried to snuggle with her. It was actually fairly adorable, and no small bit entertaining.

It was nice to have him with her too, as the climb up the mountain to what she had leaned was commonly called the Throat of the World. Whether it was or wasn't, she didn't much care, but it was damnably cold. Even with the beastblood in her, and her fur cloak, she was shivering by the time they reached the entrance to the monastery that the Graybeards called home. Numb feet were not entirely pleasant, and she found when she pushed her hood back that the interior wasn't much better. How people could _live_ here was beyond her.

"You'd think walking up seven thousands steps would keep me warmer," she muttered, shaking the snow from her cloak and boots.

"It's the Throat of the World," Farkas shrugged faintly, and smiled ruefully. "Even I'm cold up here."

She half turned, ready to tease him fondly, when there was a faint, but perceptible change to the air. A wary curiosity. Turning back allowed her to watch an elderly-looking Nord approach cautiously, looking at them both. After a moment, his gaze settled on Farkas, and he bowed slightly.

"Welcome, dovahkiin," he said.

"...that would be _me_," Auriel said testily as Farkas shook his head. "_I'm_ the one you summoned forever ago."

He blinked, and started at her. Auriel crossed her arms over her chest and frowned, making him clear his throat in embarrassment.

"Apologies. We had... expected a Nord, but I expect the blood can run in any race."

She was impressed that he not only had taken her rebuke without taking insult, he didn't seem to much care that it had taken her this long to get to them. She dropped her defensive stance, and instead was starting to look forward to getting her long-dormant questions answered.

"You call me... dovahkiin. Dragonborn? What does that mean?"

"First, we must see if you truly _are_ dragonborn," the old man replied. "Let us taste of your Voice."

"What, you want me to Shout at you? ….I'll need something a little more harmless than the one I adore... what was that word I learned forever ago?" she muttered.

It took her a few moments to recall, for many new words overlaid the old, and though she could vaguely use most of them, some were more clear than others. When she did, she took in a breath.

_Fus_

The old man staggered backwards, and she winced a little. She hadn't quite expected it to be _that_ emphatic... But when he straightened, a smile was on his lips.

"Dragonborn," he nodded. "It is you. Welcome to High Hrothgar. I am Master Arngeir. I speak for the Graybeards. Now tell me, Dragonborn, why have you come here?"

"Honestly? Ulfric was the one who suggested it to me," she shrugged a little. "But now I'm curious. What does it mean to be Dragonborn?"

"We are here to guide you in that pursuit, just as we aimed to guide those of the Dragon Blood who came before you," he replied.

"Others as in the past century, or the past year?"

"You are the only one that has been revealed thus far," Arngeir shrugged a little. "That is all I can say."

"All right. Teach me."

He nodded slightly.

"You have shown that you are Dragonborn. You have the inborn gift. But do you have the temperament to follow the path laid out before you? That remains to be seen," Arngeir sighed slightly, then motioned for her to follow. "Without training, you have already taken the first steps towards projecting your voice into a Thu'um, a Shout. Now we shall see if you are willing and able to learn."

Auriel bit back a scathing retort; she had learned a number of words on her own. Just because she didn't _use_ them didn't mean she wasn't untrained. Self-trained, maybe, but it hadn't gone bad yet.

"When you Shout, you speak in the language of dragons. Thus, you Dragon Blood gives you an inborn ability to learn Words of Power. All Shouts are made up of three Words of Power. As you master each Word, your Shout will become progressively stronger."

Four other Graybeards had joined them at this point, and she glanced at them warily. Really, Arngeir wasn't saying anything she hadn't figured out on her own, though she hadn't yet managed to actually complete a Thu'um. A lot of them matched up into two words, but not three.

"Master Einarth will now teach you 'Ro,' the second Word in Unrelenting Force. 'Ro' means 'balance' in the dragon tongue. Combine it with 'Fus,' 'force,' to focus your Thu'um more sharply."

One of the Graybeards stepped forward, and she watched as he whispered to the ground. She startled when the word appeared on the floor between them, glimmering like fire. Carefully she approached it, then looked down at the runes. Ro wound its way into her mind, connecting itself to Fus, much like the clasp of a chain. It wasn't unsettling, but it was odd.

"...I am far to used to the Word Walls," she muttered, shaking her head a little.

"You learn a new word like a master..." Arngeir breathed. "You truly do have the gift."

Auriel raised an eyebrow; she'd been under the impressions that they'd already established _that._ Hastily the old man cleared his throat, and returned to his lecture.

"Learning the Word of Power is only the first step," he continued. "You must unlock its meaning through constant practice in order to use it in a Shout."

Now Auriel frowned. That wasn't how she'd _been_ doing it...

"Well, that is how the _rest_ of us learn Shouts," Arngeir said a little wryly. "As Dragonborn, you can absorb a slain dragon's life force and knowledge directly. As part of your initiation, Master Einarth will allow you to tap into his understanding of 'Ro.'"

Auriel blinked, and looked again at Einarth. She didn't _expect_ the aura that appeared, and half stepped back on reflex alone as it swept around her. It simulated the death of a dragon, but Einarth didn't die, though he did look exhausted by the maneuver. She shivered a little; it felt... different. Less powerful. But Ro suddenly made a little more sense.

"Now, let us see how quickly you can master your new Thu'um," Arngeir said. "Use your Unrelenting Force shout to strike the targets as they appear."

Auriel nodded, motioning lightly for Farkas to step back. Three times a target appeared, and three times she knocked it down. She marveled, a little, at the increased force of the shout, but it was so utterly non-lethal that it was almost disappointing.

"Impressive," Arngeir nodded. "Your Thu'um is precise. You show great promise, Dragonborn."

"My _name_," she said a little testily, "is Auriel."

"... a fitting name indeed. Now, your next trial will take place in the courtyard. This way, please."

She grimaced a little, and Farkas rested a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. Going back out into the cold was hardly her idea of a good time, but she followed anyways, wanting to learn more Thu'um words. The snow splattered down on them, thick and cold, and Auriel muttered a few choice curses about the weather. Hopefully she wouldn't be up here for very long...

"I see that you have already begun to learn the Whirlwind Sprint Shout," Arngeir said, looking her over. "Master Borri will teach you 'Nah'- 'Fury'-the second word of Whirlwind Sprint."

It took her a minute to recall the word he was speaking of; the Bard's College had been so long ago that it was genuinely hard to remember.

_Nah_.

"You must hear the Word within yourself before you can project it into a Thu'um," Arngeir murmured.

Much like Ro, all Auriel had to do was look at the word to take it into her. And, like Einarth before, Borri gave her the knowledge of Nah, which allowed her to use it in conjunction with the first Word of the Shout. Of course, then she had to prove she had learned it, much like with the Unrelenting Force, this time by racing through a gate before it had closed. She didn't laugh or shriek, but she was grinning when she caught herself on a stone marker that kept her from going too far.

"Your quick mastery of a new Thu'um is... astonishing," Arngeir admitted when she made her way back to him. "I'd heard stories of the abilities of the Dragonborn, but to see it for myself..."

Auriel shrugged a little, and batted Farkas' hands gently away from trying to fix her hood and her hair.

"I wouldn't be able to explain how I did it," she admitted wryly. "It just sort of happens..."

"You were given this gift from the gods for a reason. It is up to _you_ to determine how best to use it," he replied. "You are now ready for your last trial. Retrieve the horn of Jurgen Windcaller, our founder, from the ancient fane of Ustangrav. Remain true to the way of the voice, and you will return."

She plied him with a few more questions, and refrained from scoffing when he suggested that she would better be able to master her Voice in the monastery itself. It was interesting to learn about Jurgen Windcaller, however, and the repeated mentioning of dragonblood reminded her of Martin. There were times, though they were few and far between these days, when she missed that man.

Ustangrav was near to her homestead in Hjallmarch, Windstad Manor. It looked almost identical to Lakeview, and though Auriel hesitated for a bit on the matter, she did detour briefly to show Farkas where it was. She also cautioned him to keep it a secret, mostly because she was not entirely sure that the Thalmor threat was entirely over with. He agreed, hugged her briefly, and then they turned towards the tomb.

In the first room, bandits and mages battled it out. They were not College mages, as Auriel had held to Savos Aren's own rules about what was, and was _not_ appropriate to study on College grounds, and thusly she felt little remorse in taking them down. Bandits were just a nuisance, and Farkas was easily able to handle those. Further in it was mages against draugr, and they were handled similarly. Auriel had to smile approvingly at Farkas; between the muffling enchantment she'd placed on his boots, and his own desire to be helpful to her, his ability to sneak about had grown tremendously. True, he'd never be as stealthy as a Khajiit—or even as stealthy as she herself was—but he was definitely getting better.

He blushed a little at the smile, then more when she gave him a fond kiss on the cheek. He really was just adorable.

That had been the last of the mages, but like every tomb she'd ever been in, there were more than enough draugr to make up for the lack of other enemies. Some of them were easier to shoot than to light on fire, and she once again toyed with the idea of enchanting her bow to hold a fire spell. It made her wish for a time when she had had the space and breathing room to enchant her arrows instead; those never needed recharging, at least. But, as with most unused knowledge, she had forgotten how to do it, and there were no books on the subject in Skyrim.

So she would just have to make do.

Deeper in, the tunnel widened out into an open-air chasm almost; sunlight poured down from a large crack high overhead, shedding light on a scene that almost seemed to be from a storybook. There were a couple trees taller than probably the Blue Palace, as well as the ruins of what had probably been a stable pathway to the tomb. She could hear the faintest calling of a Word Wall below, and resolved to find a way down, quickly.

Well, once all the draugr were killed, anyways.

The height would have been dizzying for most people, and even Farkas, impressed as he was, had to back away from the edge. Auriel looked down fearlessly, and smiled; she had always loved heights. Dangerous, yes, but so much could be seen from them.

There was, naturally, a safer, saner way to get down than attempting to climb rocks in armor. It led through more draugr, of course, but that was hardly unexpected. And they were mostly harmless anyways. Same with the skeletons, though those were more of a surprise, especially without controlling necromancers to guide them. They were more fun, at the least; they fell to pieces if one hit them right.

Farkas made almost a game out of that one; Auriel would lure the skeletons in, and he and his might greatsword would send the skeleton head flying across the room. Without their heads, the rest of the bones simply fell apart, and Auriel found that she was having to fight off an attack of the giggles. It lasted only until they had removed all the skeletons, and Farkas gave her a grin. She promptly had to sit down and giggle helplessly.

They found the path down to the Word wall before finding their way across to a puzzle; The word Auriel found had something to do with fading out, and as that was useful to her, she had no trouble with bending her mind to understanding it. But ultimately it was the Whirlwind Sprint that solved the puzzle, and Auriel grinned a little, this time allowing Farkas to neaten her hair some.

"I think you fuss more about my appearance than I do," she grinned up at him.

"D'you want me to stop?"

"No, no. It's fine, Far. I like your hands."

He smiled a little bashfully at her, which made her chuckle. He was just adorable, and she did not regret her decision in the slightest.

Another series of flame-laced floors were up ahead, and she made certain that Farkas stepped only onto the worn panels that suggested they were harmless; she didn't expect him to be willing to lunge into the fight with the giant spider, but she was very pleased that he did. Of course, she made sure to get them past that quickly, and let him sit for a bit; he was somewhat pale, and it worried her.

"Are you all right?" she asked, stripping off a gauntlet to touch his cheek lightly.

"Yeah. Just... spiders..." He shuddered a little.

She smiled sympathetically, and kissed his cheek.

"You are very brave. Thank you."

"Ah, well..."

His smile was bashful and adorable, and she sat with him for a bit until she could no longer smell the fear that had briefly powered through his scent.

The room that should have held the horn was directly after, and Auriel half-expected a trap, just because that was how _most_ last-rooms for such places ended. But when nothing leapt out at them after the rising of the odd, Nordic carvings, she cautiously made her way down the path.

It really was no surprise to discover that the horn was missing, and a note resided in its place. She scowled a little at the note, recognizing a code word when she saw it, and leaned back against Farkas slightly.

"We goin'?" he asked.

"Oh yes," she said grimly. "Someone has a few things to answer for."

"Okay."

To say she was annoyed was both an understatement and entirely accurate. She was somewhat above annoyed, but not quite angry. This reeked of intrigue and trouble, and she had _hoped_ that such things would have been behind her. Apparently that was not to be the case. Farkas wisely chose to say nothing as she stalked out of the tomb; he just stuck close and followed after.

It took them a few days to get back to Riverwood, at which point Auriel had mostly worked off the worst of her irritation. This semi-calm state lasted until they were confronted by odd people in clothing the wasn't remotely familiar and masks that looked to be made of bone. Auriel was immediately put on her guard.

"You're the one they call dragonborn?"

She could tell by the subtle nuances in their body language that she was likely to get attacked no matter what answer she gave. So she shrugged a little, and nodded.

"That would be me."

"Your lies fall on deaf ears, Deceiver," he sneered a little. "The True Dragonborn comes, and you are but his shadow. When Lord Miraak appears, all shall stand to bear witness. None shall oppose him."

"...that's all well and good, but I happen to be busy, so either attack me and be done with it, or get out of my face," she snapped.

The pair promptly attacked. The didn't _last_ very long, but she gave them credit for trying. Not much, but a tiny bit; Farkas, naturally, took complete exception to their attacks and defended her fiercely. The first stranger's clothes held nothing but questions; it was in the second's, the talkative one's robes that she found a folded up piece of paper.

"Well now, what is this...?" she murmured, scanning the paper. "Hmm... Farkas, how would you feel about a trip to this Solstheim place?"

"Will we find more of these guys?"

"Oh probably. They seem to want me quite dead, at the orders of this Miraak git," she scowled down at the paper. "The Northern Maiden... that's the ship."

"If it keeps them from coming after you, I'm all for it," he nodded firmly.

"Then that's settled. First though, let's see if we can't get that bloody horn back."

He nodded, and they stepped into the Sleeping Giant Inn. It really was no surprise to Auriel that their contact was the Innkeeper herself.

"So you're the Dragonborn I've been hearing so much about," Delphine said, raising her eyebrows. "I think you're looking for this."

And she handed over an ancient-looking horn that Auriel took gently.

"We need to talk. Privately," Delphine continued. "Follow me."

The redheaded elf couldn't help but roll her eyes; if this was Delphine's idea of stealth, it was woefully lacking. But she followed after a minute, letting the woman lead her downstairs to a secret basement room.

"Okay," Delphine turned to face them. "Now we can talk."

"Talk?" Auriel raised an eyebrow. "You first."

"The Graybeards seem to think you're the Dragonborn," Delphine said after a moment, skepticism in every line of her body. "I hope they're right."

"They are."

"I hope so, but forgive me if I don't assume that something is just because the Graybeards said so," Delphine said dryly. "I just handed you the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller; does that make me Dragonborn too?"

"No, it makes you a thief and an annoyance," Auriel snapped. "I have very little patience at the moment for the latter."

"...this was the only way I could make sure this wasn't a Thalmor trap," the other woman admitted.

Auriel's eyebrows went up in mild surprise.

"I am not your enemy," Delphine continued, urgency entering her voice. "I already gave you the horn, I'm trying to help you. I _just_ need you to hear me out."

"I'm listening..."

"Like I said in my note, I've heard you might be Dragonborn. I'm part of a group that's been looking for you... well, someone _like_ you, for a very long time. If you really _are_ Dragonborn, that is," and the suspicion was back. "Before I tell you anything else, I need to make sure I can trust you."

"Trust _me?_" Auriel snorted. "Woman, if the Thalmor are after you, they'll come at you twice as hard if they hear you're speaking with me. Why in the _hells_ are you looking for a Dragonborn anyways?"

Farkas settled a light hand on her shoulder, and Auriel caught her breath.

"We remember what most don't," Delphine said after a minute. "That the dragonborn is the ultimate dragon slayer. You're the only one that can kill a dragon permanently, by devouring its soul. Can you do it? Can _you_ devour a dragon's soul?"

It was very tempting to make a sarcastic comment. _So_ very tempting... but Auriel held it back and sighed a little, running a hand through her hair.

"All I know is that when dragons die, I absorb some sort of power from them," she sighed.

"This is no time to play the reluctant hero," Delphine snapped. "You either are or aren't Dragonborn. But I'll see for myself soon enough."

"...right. And what's the part you're _not_ telling me, Delphine?" Auriel shot back. "Because you are clearly holding more than a little bit back in this conversation, which does not impress the need for me to give a full disclosure on what I can, and cannot do."

"Dragons aren't just coming back, they're coming back to _life_," Delphine said quietly. "They weren't gone somewhere for all these years, they were dead. Killed off by my predecessors. Now something's happening to bring them back to life, and I need _you_ to help me stop it."

Auriel scrutinized Delphine for a long moment, searching her memories. After several minutes the relevant information came to her and she nodded fractionally. Delphine had been one of the Blades; an organization that had once protected the Emperors and Empresses of Cyrodiil. She remembered helping Jauffrie, the master at the time, in finding Martin... Of course, in the Great War, the Blades had been a primary target, and most of them had been wiped out. Even those who had fled. Delphine and a few others had managed to go to ground so thoroughly as to not be found... That was almost impressive.

"All right, what makes you think the dragons are coming back to life?" Auriel sighed.

"I know they are," Delphine replied. "I've visited their ancient burial mounds and found them empty. And I've figured out where the next one will come back to life. We're going to go there, and you're going to kill that dragon. If you succeed, I'll tall you anything you want to know."

Auriel raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"And you obtained this information how?"

"You should know," Delphine smirked a little. "You got the map for me from Bleak Falls Barrow."

"I did what, exactly? The only thing I retrieved from Bleak Falls Barrow was a stone tablet that I gave to Farengar."

"And he passed it on to me. The Dragonstone is a map of ancient dragon burial sites," Delphine shrugged a little. "I've looked it over, and the pattern is pretty clear. It seems to be spreading east, down from the Jerrals, near Riften. The one in Kynesgrove is next."

"And that's where you want to go, I presume."

"Yes. There's an ancient dragon burial site near there. Maybe if we get there before it happens, we can figure out how to stop it."

"...look, while it's very amusing that you want me to prove myself a Dragonborn to you and whatever other Blades you might unearth, I have something else to deal with first. You keep up this innkeeper disguise and I'll get back to you when I get back from Solstheim," Auriel snapped. "I already have one pissed off enemy, I don't need another."

Farkas moved aside as she turned and stalked up the stairs, then followed dutifully behind. She was halfway to Whiterun before she'd calmed down enough to stop rushing, and he cautiously caught up, slipping an arm around her shoulders. Armor was not terribly conducive to snuggling, but she leaned her head against his shoulder anyways, and sighed.

"My life was never so complicated before all of this," she muttered. "Remind me to add Ulfric to the list of people I need to throw things at."

"Okay. Are we still going to Solstheim?"

"Yes. Whatever's there is undoubtedly a more severe threat at the moment. Dragons returning to life can simply be killed. People coming after me, I tend to not appreciate. I took out the Brotherhood for that very reason, and I will not leave an enemy at my back if I can afford it."

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair.

"...do you still want to come?"

"I'll come. Where you go, I'll always follow."


	28. Twenty-seven: Solstheim

Twenty-seven:

Solstheim

They returned to the Graybeards first, of course, bringing back the horn that Delphine had taken. Mostly because Auriel didn't want to carry around an ancient relic while she was chasing some idiot on an island. Too many ways for such a thing to get broken, and _then_ where would she be?

Arngeir was in an alcove, reading, when they made it back.

"Ah, you've retrieved the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller. Well done. You have now passed all the trials. Come with me, and we shall formally recognize you as Dragonborn."

Auriel raised her eyebrow, then shrugged and followed.

"You are ready to learn the final word of Unrelenting Force; 'Dah' which means 'push.' With all three words together, this Shout is much more powerful. Use it wisely."

Powerful, yes, but still wholly unlethal, and therefore, uninteresting.

"Master Wulfgar will now gift you with his knowledge of 'Dah.'"

The rush of not-quite-power again, and the word lit up in her mind. Briefly. She could feel the strength in the completed shout, but it was more like a very hard shove than anything she would ever have need of.

"You have completed your training," Arngeir smiled slightly. "We would Speak to you."

She blinked, and cocked her head a little.

"Speak?"

"...you will see. Stand between us, and prepare yourself. Few can withstand the unshielded Voice of the Graybeards, but you are ready."

Speak they did. The language unmistakably ancient, and the way it made the very air rumble suggested it was dragon.

_Lingrah krosis saroom Stundu'ul, valh nid baloon klav graan nav. Naal Thu'um, mu afan nii nu, Dovahkiin, naal suleyk da Kaan, nall sulkeyk do Shor, ahirk naal suleyk do Atmorosewuth. Mayz nu Ysmir, Dovahsebrom. Dahmaan daor rok._

Auriel shook herself a little as they finished, felling a little like they may well have vibrated her out of her armor if they'd so chosen.

"Dovahkiin," Arngeir said quietly. "You have tasted the Voice of the Graybeards, and passed through unscathed. High Hrothgar is open to you."

He bowed, and the Graybeards withdrew. Gingerly Farkas stepped up to her side and she felt little shame in turning to lean on him.

"You okay?"

"Mmm... I almost want to ask them about who Miraak might be, but somehow, I don't expect they would know," she sighed a little. "Come on, Far. Let's get to Windhelm so we can find that ship we need to take."

"Yes love."

The trip over was actually fairly pleasant. Auriel had always enjoyed riding in boats, and had always been unaffected by seasickness, Farkas wasn't _quite_ so lucky, but once he got his legs under him again, he did seem to enjoy it. The captain hadn't been to pleased at her demand that he return to Solstheim itself, but after pointing out that the cultists he brought over tried to kill her, he reluctantly agreed.

"Well, here we are," the captain said as they pulled into port. "This is Raven Rock. Can't say I'm all that glad to see it again... Good luck. Maybe you can figure out what's going on around here."

She nodded and hopped onto the dock, then waited patiently for Far to step off, somewhat wobblingly. An officious-looking Dunmer approached, and frowned at them both.

"I don't recognize you, so I presume this is your first trip to Raven's Rock," he said stiffly. "State your intentions."

"Currently? Looking for Miraak. I have something I wish to discuss with him."

"Miraak?" He frowned a little, confusion crossing his face. "I feel I should know that name, but... it slips from my grasp."

"Is there anything you can tell me? A direction in which to start looking, perhaps?"

"I don't think so... I'm not... The name has something to do with the Earth Stone over there, but I'm not sure... what..."

Auriel followed the gesture he made, and her eyebrows went up as she caught sight of a stone, almost a pillar, really, that gave off an eerie sort of greenish glow.

"My thanks. I shall look into that, then," she nodded a little, stepping past the Dunmer.

He nodded a little dazedly, and Farkas hurried to catch up.

"That was weird," he said after a minute.

"I don't like it," she murmured. "Something is going on here, and it's likely not going to be any good for me. But, seeing as we're here, and I have no desire to be attacked by bone-masked fools again, it seems we may as well find out what is wrong with this place."

Because something _was_ wrong. It was a subtle feeling in the air, not just the ashes and dust that permeated the island. It seemed to grow stronger as she approached the stone, though she was stopped not far from it by another Dunmer.

"You don't seem to be in the same state as the others," he said, studying her curiously. "Very interesting. May I ask what it is you're doing here?"

"Unless your name is Miraak, that would be none of your business," she replied shortly.

"Miraak, Miraak..." He frowned. "No my name is Neloth. That name _sounds_ quite familiar, but I can't quite... place..." He paused, then snapped his finger. "No, no, wait, I recall! But... that makes very little sense. Miraak's been dead for thousands of years."

"You're right, that doesn't make sense, considering he sent people to try and kill me," she snorted.

"It _is_ fascinating, isn't it?" Neloth said with an absent smile. "Perhaps it has some sort of relation as to what's going on here. Quite unexpected. I'm afraid I can't give you any answers, but there are ruins of an ancient temple of Miraak's towards the center of the island. If I were you, I'd look there."

She nodded, and glanced curiously at the structures slowly going up around the stone.

"What are they doing?"

"Building something... yet they don't seem to have much to say about it. I'm very interested to find out what happens when they finish."

"So you're not going to try and stop them..."

"Certainly not!" he said, a little outraged. "Doing that would interfere with whatever is happening, and I wouldn't be able to see how this all turns out."

"...researchers," she shook her head a little. "C'mon Far, let's see if someone has a map we can buy."

Farkas nodded as Neloth turned back to watch the people building. Auriel shuddered a little, and moved into the city of Raven Rock itself. It wasn't a _big_ city, but fortunately she was able to find someone who was willing to part with a map for only a few gold pieces, and soon enough she and Farkas were in the wilds. Or what passed for wilds.

The land was covered in a thick layer of ashes as far as she could see. The plants were odd, and fascinating, really. She packed some up to study further when she returned to Skyrim. The creatures were odd as well, some falling apart with the lightest hit, while others were made entirely of ash and fire. The fire didn't hurt her much, but it was irritating.

The oddest creature by far was a harmless thing that showed no interest in them. It just floated along, like a jellyfish in the ocean, except it was floating in the air, and even touching it produced no reaction.

Auriel couldn't help but be fascinated. Farkas eventually had to tug at her to remind her that they were supposed to be finding these temple ruins.

"Maybe we should stay here for a while," she murmured, eyes lingering over the landscape.

"...if you want to, sure," he shrugged a little. "But didn't you wanna talk to this Miraak guy first?"

"Ah, you're right. I can let myself get distracted another time."

He chuckled a little, and she smiled faintly. It was nice that he would indulge her like this, too. Maybe when they cleared up whatever was going on here, it would feel like an okay place, for all that one breathed ash every step. It was, at least, warmer than Skyrim.

As they drew closer to the temple, Auriel paused in surprise as she recognized shapes under the ashes. Dragon bones littered the ground, scattered here and there like a child who'd grown bored with their blocks and knocked them all down.

The temple itself certainly looked like it had seen better days too; scaffolding wrapped around no few pieces of the stonework, supporting it, and there were a number of people working on rebuilding the temple itself. Like the ones at the Earth stone, the felt... odd. Wrong, somehow. Not hostile, no, but... unnerving. Hardly any of them seemed to notice the pair was there, and none would respond to a direct question. They seemed to be spouting poetry of some type, and she had little doubt that this Miraak was the subject.

"...I don't think we're going to get any answers out here," she murmured to Farkas, who had drawn closer to her. "Maybe inside..."

"I've got you back," he nodded.

The climbed the stairs, and went into the central part of the temple, which was surprisingly clear of the ash that covered the entire island. A glance around confirmed that there were a number of people in the ruin itself, trying to build it back up, which explained the lack of ashes.

There was only one person who seemed unaffected by the oddness, a woman in armor, who was going around urgently shaking some of the people, who failed to react even a little. She caught sight of the pair and stopped short.

"What brings you to this place? Why are you here?" she asked warily.

"I could ask the same, but I expect it would be intemperate," Auriel said dryly. "I'm Auriel. You?"

"I am Frea of the Skaal. I am here to either save my people, or avenge them," the blonde woman replied.

"Save them?" Auriel cocked her head curiously. "From what?"

"I am unsure. Something has taken control of most of the people of Solstheim," Frea frowned uneasily. "It makes them forget themselves, and work on these horrible creations that corrupt the Stones, the very land itself. My father Storn, the shaman, says that Miraak has returned to Solstheim. But... that is impossible."

Auriel's interest was instantly caught.

"Given that he attempted to have me killed over in Skyrim, that's not as impossible as you seem to think," she said.

"Then you and I both have reasons to see what lies beneath us," Frea replied. "Let us go. There is nothing more I can do here... the Tree Stone, and my friends, are beyond my help for now. We need to find a way into the temple below."

As if responding to her words, the floor near to them began shifting, sinking downwards. Talk was abandoned as a pair of cultists, identical to the ones that had attacked in Riverwood, rushed up the ramp and attacked.

They didn't last long; between Frea's prowess, Farkas' blade, and Auriel's flames, they were soon nothing more than dead.

"Mind if I ask you a few things first?" Auriel said as they moved into the temple.

"I will do my best to answer," she nodded.

"Can you tell me much of use about Miraak?"

"His story is as old as Solstheim itself," Frea said musingly. "He served the dragons before their fall from power, as most did. A priest in their order. But unlike most, he turned against them. He made his own path, but his actions cost him dearly. The stories say he sought to claim Solstheim for himself, and the dragons destroyed him for it."

"...huh..."

Auriel frowned thoughtfully. Unfortunately, that didn't do much to address any of the questions that lingered in her head. Most prominently, why in the name of Oblivion he was trying to have her killed!

"Why did you come by yourself?"

"There are few of us left unaffected by the curse," she sighed a little. "My father protects them in the village. I fashioned an amulet to protect me against whatever has taken hold of the Skaal, but... it is the only one of its kind. If I cannot find a way to save them, there is no hope for our people..."

There was pain in Frea's eyes, and Auriel nodded slightly in sympathy, and decided against prying for more information. She had no doubts that she would learn abut the Skaal soon enough, whether she liked it or not.

"Come on. Let's see what is in here," Auriel said.

"Agreed. This evil must be rooted out," Frea nodded sharply.

"Right behind you," Farkas murmured.

There wasn't much of use in the first three rooms; dry bones mostly, with a few potions that looked to be fairly new, if a little dusty. The air smelled foul in a way that Auriel wasn't familiar with; dust and rot she could ignore, but this was subtle, and it made her feel sick to her stomach. Not enough to make her heave, but enough to make her miserable.

They encountered more of the odd cultists as they continued in, and it was terribly tempting to grab some robes and masks to blend in. Not tempting enough, however, as the smell that was bothering her seemed to be worse when she was close to them. The sooner she was out of there, the better, really...

The found their way down into a more open-aired room, the ceiling high overhead, and a pit with stairs leading down. There were cages strung over the pit, with skeletal remains, and Auriel grimaced, wondering what the people had done to be put there. And _how_.

"I do not wish to imagine the kinds of things that happened in this chamber," Frea said with a shudder. "Who were the poor souls trapped in these cages? What tortures did they suffer at Miraak's hands? Was it in service to the dragons, or for his own purposes?"

She turned away, and Auriel snorted a little; if she hadn't wanted to think about it, she probably shouldn't have said anything at all; it was easier to bury a question when it was left unsaid. After a moment, Frea turned back, but her attention wasn't on the cages. It was on the dais that overlooked them, though there was no clear path up to it.

"...what's up there?" The Skaal woman asked. "Maybe... you look lighter than I... perhaps you can find a way up there?"

"Well, I can try," Auriel shrugged. "No promises."

She glanced around the room, then scrambled up a nearby pillar, Farkas close behind.

"Far, do you think you can toss me over?"

"Yeah. I can do that."

He managed it nicely at that, and she landed easily enough on the platform. The chest that Frea had caught side of wasn't terribly full, but a handful of coin and precious gems was worth the effort of the climb. She dropped easily down onto the stairs after pocketing what she wanted, and rejoined her friends.

"Anything of value?"

"A few coins, a few gems. Should fetch a nice enough price," Auriel shrugged a little. "Or make so jewelry, if I can get the right materials."

"You craft?"

"Mmhm. It's a hobby."

Of course, no tomb was complete without some draugr, and they actually got the drop on the trio; not that it helped the draugr any. Nor the cultists that came after. The draugr beyond were slightly more challenging, but not by much. It was more the close quarters of the fight, which left Auriel able to do very little.

Beyond was a room that was filled with more dead draugr than living ones, simply scattered haphazardly about the floor. An odd thing, given the normal reverence with which the dead were treated. Following that was a trap that made Frea stop dead. Auriel couldn't blame her, the number of scythes swinging from the ceiling were a bit on the intimidating side.

"I an _not_ going down there," Frea said firmly. "It would be foolish to attempt it."

"So stay here," Auriel shrugged. "You too Far. I'll see if I can't find the release on the other side."

"I can see a lever that might do it," Frea nodded. "I will wait here. Good luck."

Farkas caught up her hand, concern writ large on his face. Auriel smiled, and kissed his cheek.

"Don't fret, Far. I'll be just fine."

It took a bit of maneuvering, and timing, but by sticking to the edge of the room she made it through with only a mild nick on her ear to show for it. Flipping the level not only ceased the swinging blades, it lowered the bars that blocked their path.

"Miraak took great pains to make it difficult to reach him, it seems," Frea murmured when she caught up. "Let us hope that is the last of these traps."

"You can hope, but if it were me, I'd have left something else behind," Auriel shrugged. "Angry dragonborn, Skaal warrior, and Companion are nothing to joke about."

"Dragonborn, you?"

"So I'm told. It's why he tried to kill me, I think. Only, I don't do well with competition myself. Rather, I hate leaving enemies at my back."

Frea went quiet, and Farkas smiled a little, then lightly touched her ear. Gently Auriel batted his hand away.

"I'm fine, Far. Harmless."

"...all right."

They continued on, sliding carefully around some bone chimes. Farkas tried, but didn't quite manage it; the clatter made Auriel wince, and lowered three bridges with loud bangs. Two held draugr, one a cultist. As the cultist was the more annoying threat, Auriel went after him. A well placed arrow to the throat took him out, while Frea and Farkas deal with the draugr.

"See?" Auriel said once they made it to the top. "No one in their right mind leaves a trap unset."

"You may have a point," Frea sighed.

The next set of doors led to the inner sanctum of the temple, and the odd reek in the air grew stronger. Auriel had to stop, and lean on her husband in an attempt to bite back a dizzy spell.

"Are you all right?" Frea asked.

"...the air in here is terrible," Auriel mumbled, closing her eyes. Farkas' arms kept her upright as she fought against the nausea and dizziness. "I hope we find whatever we're looking for soon, otherwise I may well pass out."

Farkas passed her some water, and she drank after a moment; it helped to clear out her senses, a little, and after a few more moments she was steady on her feet again. She stopped short on a covered bridge, staring at the skeletons through which bars had been shoved. The morbid part of her wondered if that had been done while they were living, or after their deaths. Impossible to know now, at least...

"I do not know what it is Miraak learned that gave him reason to turn on his masters," Frea murmured. "But his path seems to have been a cruel one. I wonder if we will find some answers to what happened so long ago."

"...Honestly, I would be all right with not knowing," Auriel muttered, leaning again into Farkas' protective hold.

After half a dozen skeleton and two more draugr, the temple opened up into a cavern.

"Interesting," Frea murmured. "This may be worth exploring..."

It was probably one of the few times Auriel wasn't inclined to explore a tomb. The faster they were out, the better, as far as she was concerned. She watched a little listlessly as Frea went off, taking another sip of water, and settling in to wait for the Skaal woman's return. When she did, she passed the Altmer mage a couple of spell books, and a potion with a faint grin.

"I knew there was something down there. Here, perhaps you can make use of these."

Auriel just nodded, and put them away; she'd study them later, when she was more in the mood for it.

The went down some more stairs, and took out two more cultists along the way, then all three stopped and traded grimaces at the sight of even more stairs down.

"How much deeper can this be?" Frea demanded incredulously. "I had been told that Miraak's power was great, but to have built so large a temple..."

Auriel muttered a few choice words in Aldmeri, and Farkas growled lowly in agreement. If they were not near the end now, they had better reach it soon.

The room at the base of the stairs held a Word wall, and a large dragon skeleton, painstakingly wired together in such a manner as to be displayed.

"I had heard Miraak had turned against the Dragon Cult," Frea said. "But to display the remains in such a manner as this..."

Whatever else she was going to say was cut off as Auriel absorbed the word, and the entire temple shuddered. The coffins lining the room fell open, and draugr stepped out to fight. It was fierce, and dangerous; Auriel was not able to help very much thanks to the close quarters and the smell the grew stronger the farther down they went. It was not a pleasant day to have the beastblood.

"Can you make it, my friend?" Frea asked, once the undead had returned to being permanently so. "If you cannot..."

"I'll make it," Auriel growled stubbornly. "I owe this git a black eye if not an arrow to the face, so I damned well will make it."

Accepting Farkas' help up, Auriel scowled at the ground until it held still once more. She hadn't come all this way just to get stymied now, damnit.

Of course, it wasn't to be that easy. The next series of rooms stalled them. The first one was almost an entryway, and the room beyond looked as though it had been an eating or workhall at some point in its past. The rooms dead-ended into what have likely once been the kitchen, and all three made exasperated sounds.

"You've _got_ to be joking," Auriel muttered crossly.

"There must be something more," Frea insisted. "Look around. I will let you know if I find anything in the dining area."

Auriel nodded, and sighed a little. This was getting to be a bigger headache than she'd initially anticipated.

In the end, Farkas was the one who actually found the switch that led them farther in. He then had to help support Auriel as the lowering of the rock had released a strong cloud of whatever it was that reeked in the air, nearly knocking her over. He grimaced too, able to smell it at last himself, and cradled her gently until she could stand on her own two feet.

The narrow hallway didn't improve the situation, and the room they stepped into was small itself, lined with nothing more than a few ruined books.

"I wonder if there is something here that tells the story of Miraak," Frea mused.

"Given how damaged these books are, that's not terribly likely," Auriel muttered.

The nest room had her stop short in surprise; a three headed odd... statue, it seemed, stared back at them. Frea moved in closer, curiously, but Auriel kept her distance.

"I do not recognize this statuary," the Skaal woman said thoughtfully. "We passed by a few of them earlier, but they are becoming more frequents as we go farther in."

Auriel hadn't even noticed. It made her growl a little in irritation.

"I do not like this place," Frea continued, stepping back a little. "It almost looks as if these statues will come to life at any moment."

"They'd better not," Auriel muttered. "Draugr are bad enough."

Farkas just gently patted her shoulder.

"Far... could you turn the handle?" Auriel muttered. "It seems our only way out is to keep going down."

"Sure."

Down they went, and down further still. The place was silent enough to hear even the quietest of Auriel's footsteps, and the subtle click or armor and armaments. Another switch revealed more stairs down, and at the bottom the door opened into something that likely would have frightened the unwary or unnerved; a dragon's skull, suspended over a lit fire.

"Miraak apparently has a thing for the dramatic," Auriel mutter crabbily.

Beyond, it opened up again, and Auriel could taste the faintest hint of cleaner air, which she was more than willing to breath in. More dragon bones littered the ground, and wary draugr walked the dirt-covered stairs. For once the stairs led up, and there was more than enough space for Auriel to lash out with flames and arrows; the flames seemed to clear the air for a brief moment, and she took that moment with everything she could.

Unfortunately the tunnel beyond led on a descending angle, and Auriel allowed herself to mutter a few inventive curses at Miraak. They made Farkas snicker a little, which did help her mood somewhat; she enjoyed making him laugh.

What they finally found at the bottom was nothing less than a shrine. But a shrine to what or whom, Auriel couldn't say. A book rested in the middle, and every last instinct of hers screamed to avoid it. She actually stepped back, nearly running into both Farkas and Frea in her desire to be anywhere else.

"The book, it seems... wrong somehow," Frea murmured, staring at it. "Here yet... not. This may be what we seek."

"...I don't want to touch it," Auriel muttered, taking a reluctant step forward. "I want that logged as an official protest, all right?"

"I understand," Frea smiled sympathetically. "But... I do not want to touch it either."

The book itself sat innocently on the shelf, wrapped in black, and embossed with an odd picture on the front that looked almost like a tangle of vines. Unwillingly, Auriel picked the book up, and gingerly opened it. The damn thing grew tentacles, it seemed, and yanked her in.

Briefly, her vision blacked out, and when it returned, she had no idea where she was. A small island on a black ocean, in a place that reeked of foul air, bound books, and something dangerous.

"The time now comes when..."

Her vision cleared in time to see a dragon landing, and the man who'd spoken swore, turning in surprise and threw lightning at her. Auriel was unable to dodge; it felt much like the time Karliah's arrow had struck her. Able to see, but not able to act. But she had no doubt that this man in his odd armor, surrounded by creatures that had... well, octopi for heads, really, was Miraak.

"Who are you to dare set foot here?" He demanded. Then he took a closer look. "Aaahhh... you are Dragonborn. I can feel it. And yet... You have done little, beyond killing a few dragons. You have no idea of the true power a Dragonborn can wield!"

He shouted something, but the words slipped past; it looked as though he'd granted himself some sort of extra armor, though...

"This world is beyond you," he said coldly. "You have no power here. And it is only a matter of time before Solstheim is also mine. I already control the minds of its people. Soon, they will finish building my temple, and I can return home."

He turned away, and the strange creatures moved in.

"She can await my arrival with the rest of Tamriel," he said dismissively.

As they attacked, knocking her to the ground, she saw him climb on the back of a dragon, and take flight into a green sky before her sight faded into darkness.

"Auri!"

She was being shaken, albeit gently, and Farkas' voice was panicked and urgent. She lifted a hand blearily, and tried to pat him on the head; she missed completely, but he grabbed her hand and held it tightly, cradling her gently.

"What happened?" Frea asked wonderingly. "You read the book and then... It was like you were not really here. I could see you, but also... see through you! I had to stop your man from trying to attack the book itself..."

Which explained the developing bruise around Farkas' left eye.

"I... I don't know," Auriel shivered a little, and attempted to sit up. Farkas helped her, but didn't release her from his protective hold. "I... I was somewhere, but... I think I saw Miraak, at least. Riding a dragon."

"Where?" Frea demanded. "Where is he? Can we reach him? Can we _kill_ him?!"

"Stop," Auriel snapped. "Unless _you_ want to read the damn book and find out what's on the other side, just... just stop."

"...my apologies, you are right. This is a dangerous thing. We should take it to my village, and show my father. Perhaps Storn can make sense of what is going on. Come, the way out seems to be this way. Can you stand?"

"...if Farkas will let me get up, I can try."

Farkas let go reluctantly, helping her to stand; beyond the initially dizziness, she was able to keep her feet under her with minimal effort. Up and out was a pleasant, welcome thing, and the ash-choked air was sweeter than she expected.

Even if it did give her a coughing fit.


	29. Twenty-Eight: The Skaal

Twenty-eight:

The Skaal

Time in the icy air, following Frea, helped Auriel recover. Though still entirely unnerved by whatever she'd seen through the black book, she was also beginning to feel the smallest bit curious.

"You see that green light?" Frea pointed, and Auriel turned to look. "That comes from the Wind Stone, where my people work against their will. They must be freed soon."

Auriel didn't know what to say to that, so she stayed silent. But the far more cynical portion of her mind suggested that it would be a while before more of the Skaal were freed from whatever it was Miraak was doing.

Frea stopped again, this time on the far side of a bridge.

"The village is just ahead," she said. "Storn has used his magic to raise a barrier around it, protecting the few of us left. That the barrier is still there is a good sign."

There was a noticeable difference as they crossed the barrier's threshold, and Auriel sighed a little in relief. The niggling feeling of wrongness was gone, here in this bubble of a village. It felt _nice_.

The village itself was small. A collection of wooden houses, around a central well, with no one on the street to witness their arrival. The old man in front of the central-most house gave off a wavering pillar of light; undoubtedly the source of the barrier that separated this village from the troubles of the island itself. Which meant that the old man was Storn.

Auriel didn't recognize the magic he was using, and wanted to learn it almost instantly.

"Father!" Frea stopped short of the three people kneeling on the ground, relief in her voice. "I have returned! There is yet hope!"

"Frea?" He blinked up at her, then smiled. "What news do you bring? Is there a way to free our people?"

"No, but I have brought someone who has seen things."

"Under protest," Auriel injected with a grimace.

"She has confirmed that Miraak is the one behind the suffering of our people," Frea continued.

"I feared that it would be so," Storn sighed.

"But how is that possible?" Frea asked. "After all this time..."

"I fear there is too much we do not yet know," he admitted wearily.

Frea turned to Auriel, and grabbed her arm briefly. Auriel pulled away on reflex, backing up into Farkas, who steadied her gently.

"Please," Frea said insistently. "Tell Storn what happened!"

She grimaced, then moved to sit near him, briefly watching the column of light that fed up between the three shamans.

"So you have seen things, yes?" he asked. "My magic is weakening. Soon the barrier around the village will fall. Time grows short. Tell me what you know."

"All right; from what I saw, yes, Miraak really is the one behind this insanity," she sighed.

"And you know this how?"

"We went through his temple, and found a black book at the bottom. Under protest, I read it. It... did something, and brought me there to him."

"The legends speak of that place. Terrible things happened to the people. Dragons burning it to the ground in rage. They also speak of something _worse_ than dragons buried within. Difficult to imagine... but if true..."

Auriel shuddered.

"Oh, it's true all right," she muttered.

"It means what I feared has come to pass," Storn bowed his head a little. "Miraak was never truly gone, and now, has returned. If you could go to this place and see him... are you like Miraak? Are you Dragonborn?"

"Yeah. That's what I keep getting told, and after a year of it, it's a little hard to deny."

"Then perhaps you are connected to him. The old tales say that he, too, was Dragonborn."

"That's hardly going to make any sort of difference," Auriel snorted. "And he very much was. He spoke words I almost recognized, but couldn't place, having never seen them for myself."

"...there is a Word nearby, one that may help. Go to Searing's Watch, and use it first on the Wind Stone. I have the hopes that it will free our people from his control."

Auriel grimaced, and sighed.

"I need to rest," she said, though she made sure to control her irritation. "That temple was... bad. I'm exhausted and still somewhat ill. So if you don't mind, I'll do _that_ first, and then get this word."

"Of course," he nodded a little. "Go into the Greathall behind us. There is food there, and a bed on the upper level."

"Thanks."

The hall was warm, the food was good, and the bed was well enough, but it was being held in Farkas' arms that did the most of her uneasy spirit.

"Far?"

"Yeah?"

"D'you think we should do this? Maybe this was a bad idea..."

He nuzzled her gently.

"Maybe. But I can't say it'd feel right turning my back on these folk."

Auriel sighed, tucking her head against his shoulder.

"No, it doesn't. And I still owe Miraak for those idiots trying to kill me, but..."

He tightened his hold on her gently.

"I've got your back, Auri. So the world might never overtake us, remember?"

It made her smiled, and she yawned a little.

"You are far too kind for someone like me," she murmured.

"And you're too smart for someone like me," he grinned a little as she frowned at him. "So it all works out."

"...you are such a brat."

He kissed her forehead gently.

"Go to sleep Auri. I'll be here."

She slept.

Morning came around sooner than she liked, but no one insisted they awaken. If anything, it was her own inability to return to sleep once properly awake, and after a quick breakfast—really the sleep had done wonders for her, and the food definitely helped—they ventured outside the barrier, to find this Word that Storn had spoken of.

They investigated the Wind Stone, and found that the structure around it resembled something like what they'd seen in the bottom of Miraak's Temple. Auriel shivered a little, and they turned their focus westward, trekking through snow and ash; it was, in a way, almost comforting. Almost like Skyrim. At the least, it was chilly enough, though nothing touched the bitter cold at The Throat of the World.

There was a path, sort of, but it wasn't easy to find. They had to backtrack several times, and Auriel muttered dark curses with every delay. If she had _less_ of a conscience, they'd already be on the boat back to Windhelm.

And of course, the word wall was guarded by a dragon. Perhaps amusingly, it had decided to pick a fight with some draugr in the ruins, who didn't take very kindly to it. It was perhaps the first time Auriel felt sympathy for the undead, as she did her best to pepper the dragon's hide with her arrows.

"Not this time, Dragonborn," Miraak said, appearing behind her. Auriel startled, and came around swinging, but her bow simply went right through him. "This one's mine."

Auriel's curses filled the air as Miraak stole the dragon's soul from her, and there was a smugness to his appearance, in his body-language, as she could not see his face.

"I grow ever stronger," he said mockingly, then faded out.

"I'm going to shove an arrow through your _spine!_" Auriel yelled.

"Auri..."

"_What?_  
"...draugr."

"Ah hells..."

Also naturally, the word wall was on top of the ruins that were filled with the draugr the dragon had been fighting with.

"I shouldn've just let the dragon kill them," she muttered.

Farkas wisely refrained from saying anything, and Auriel led the way with flames, which, as always, did much to restore her temper. The word seemed almost subdued when she found it, though once she bent her attention to it, she felt it sizzle and pop like a few of the others. She hoped it was the word Storn meant, because there were no other Words up there.

She made her way back to the Wind Stone, and tried it; at first nothing happened, and she wondered if maybe she'd used it on the _wrong_ part of the stone, but after waiting a few minutes, the temple-like structure started developing fissures and cracked. And then the whole structure seemed to _implode_, leaving an odd creature in its wake. It's face looked like those statues at the base of Miraak's temple; empty-eyed with a mouth full of fangs. The Skaal who'd been working on building around the Wind Stone scattered, leaving Auriel and Farkas the room to deal with it.

"That thing is ugly," Auriel said after it was dead, prodding it carefully with her boot. "Certainly not from _this_ realm. Must be one of the other plains of Oblivion..."

Farkas just shrugged, sheathing his sword. After a moment, Auriel shrugged too, and turned back towards the village. Storn smiled at their return, and motioned for them to sit.

"The air is different," he said. "We are safe, which means you have succeeded."

"...in a manner of speaking, yes."

"You have proven yourself an ally to the Skaal, and so the Skaal shall be allies to you."

"All right," she shrugged a little. "I hope you have some idea on what to do next, because I certainly don't."

"Perhaps you can do the same for the rest of Solstheim," he said. "Here, give me your map and I will make the locations of the other stones upon it. I doubt it will stop whatever Miraak is doing, but it may slow his progress."

"...I don't want to slow him down," Auriel said firmly. "I want to _stop_ him."

"I cannot help with that," he said a little sadly. "None of us here can. You will need the knowledge Miraak himself learned. You will need to learn more about this black book."

"...do you know _anything_ about the book?" Auriel asked.

"This does not look like something of the Dragon cult," Storn frowned "It is unnatural. I would have nothing to do with it... but you may get something from that Dark Elf wizard, Neloth... He came to us some time ago, asking about Black Books. I believe he knows a great deal about them... perhaps too much. Seek him out to the south, but be cautious. Something else is at work here."

She nodded a little in thanks, then bowed a little more formally.

"Perhaps when I come back, we can talk about your people," she smiled slightly. "I admit, I'm terribly curious. But not now. Thank you."

Despite her intentions on finding Neloth, Auriel found herself seeking out the stones first. Though there were six stones total, the Tree Stone was firmly surrounded by Miraak's temple, and as such, was unable to be freed. But she managed the other four well enough. Each time the people were freed, and there was another one of those creatures to fight, which, between herself and Farkas, were dealt with.

"I almost wish I knew what to call these things," she said as they rested next to the Sun Stone. "But at the same time that seems like a fairly bad idea too. Almost like if I know its name I could summon it, or something."

"...let's _not_," Farkas grimaced. "They're ugly."

She chuckled, and leaned against him.

"Agreed. And since it seems we're lucky enough to finish up near Neloth's, let's go have a chat with him, hmm?"

"Sounds good to me, dear."

It surprised her, at first, to see the giant mushroom houses, before a lingering piece of memory reminded her that such a thing had once been common for the Telvani family in Morrowind, prior to Red Mountain blowing up. Farkas just stared for a while, and she had to giggle.

"Yes, I know. It's hard to imagine. Let's not ask about that. Come on."

At the very least the door looked normal enough, but directly inside was a patch of ground that sent her floating gently upwards. She yelped, flailed, and grabbed onto Farkas, who was doing some flailing of his own.

Neloth snickered at their haphazard landing, and she scowled at him.

"You again," he said once they'd straightened themselves up. "Didn't I see you in Raven Rock?"

"Yes, you did. You pointed me towards Miraak's temple. Now I have another question for you, about Black Books."

"You refer to the tomes of esoteric knowledge that old Hermaeus Mora has scattered throughout the world?"

"...Maybe?"

"Is this somehow connected to your search for Miraak?"

"Yes. Yes it is." Auriel paused, then blinked. "Wait, Hermaeus Mora... the Daedric Prince? What do the Black Books have to do with _him_?"

"You didn't know?" Neloth raised an eyebrow. "Hm. I thought it was obvious. Hermaeus Mora has always tried to seduce mortals into his service with the lure of forbidden knowledge. Where the Black Books come from, no one really knows. Some seem to be from the past, while others may well come from the future. Apparently time is more malleable if you're the Daedric Prince of fate and destiny."

"...right. Well, I found a book. I think I need to find more of them."

"Found one? Yes, and you read it too, didn't you? Don't try to deny it, you've got the look... I can see it now..."

"I read it under severe protest," Auriel snapped. "And it only showed me something moderately useful in the terms of finding Miraak."

"Dangerous knowledge is still knowledge, and therefore, useful. Generally the _most_ useful, in my experience," he nodded thoughtfully.

Auriel sighed, and ran a hand through her hair.

"Look, I need to know what Miraak knows in order to track him down. Can you, or can you not help me?"

"Hermaeus Mora gives nothing away from free," Neloth said warningly. "You could end up like Miraak, of course. Two power-mad Dragonborn..." He brightened slightly. "That could be very interesting!"

"Neloth... Do you, or do you _not_ know where I can find another Black Book?" Auriel growled.

"Oh yes," he nodded. "They're not hard to locate once you know how to use them. I have one here I've been using to locate more, actually."

"...Yes, Storn did say you had a Black Book," Auriel sighed a little.

"Well, I wasn't inclined towards being idle while this interesting madness infested Solstheim," he chuckled a little. "But I believe my book is _not_ the one you're looking for. It has little to connect it with Miraak. But I believe I _do_ know where to find one that can help you."

Auriel lifted her head slightly.

"So you know where it is?"

"Yes I do," he smiled a little, then sighed. "However, I've not been able to get it. Perhaps with your help we can unlock the secrets the Dwemer left behind."

Auriel grimaced. Dwemer ruins. Why was it _always_ Dwemer ruins?

"All right. Tell me where it is, and I'll see what I can do to get it."

"If it was that simple, I would have the book already," he chided. "It seemed the ancient Dwemer discovered this book, and took it to study. I found their 'reading room' in the ruins of Nchardak. It was sealed in a protective case, which I was not able to open. But perhaps together we _will_ be able to get at the book."

"All right... let's go."

"To Nchardak, then!" Neloth grinned a little. "Follow me."


	30. Twenty-nine: Black Books

Twenty-nine:

Black Books

The place Neloth led them to actually wasn't that far from the mushroom-house forest. He stopped not far from the entrance, and gestured lightly.

"The books is housed inside that dome. I'll need to unlock the door, so let's get started."

"Hold on a moment..." Auriel frowned a little at the half-sunken ruin. "...there are people of there. Guards?"

"No, not mine. Must be thieves or raiders, no doubt."

Auriel sighed.

"Right. Let's clear _that_ out, and then you can unlock the doors. Far?"

"Right behind you."

"Good."

"I had to clean out the riff-raff _last_ time I was here too!" Neloth complained. "_Where_ do they come from?"

"Less asking, more spells," Auriel snapped.

There was ten of them, and one Dragon cultist. The cultist with his fireballs was decidedly the annoying one, so Auriel shot him first. It was terribly satisfying to watch him go flying backwards with her arrow through his chest, and the rest of them were no more difficult.

The dome was at the far end of the ruin, and Neloth approached an odd little stand that Auriel hadn't actually seen before.

"The Dwemer of Nchardak appear to have been fond of these control pedestals. Luckily I found a cube to operate it inside on my last visit. And I sealed the door when I left, to keep out ignorant meddlers. Now... let's see..."

He set a glowing cube on the pedestal, then turned it, unlocking the gate. He smiled as she raised her eyebrows, impressed, and nodded a little.

"The book is just inside."

The room they stepped into was overtly Dwemer, all manner of pipes and odd decorations. It was also high ceilinged, and looked almost as though it was meant for something else.

"You can see the book right over there," Neloth pointed to the center of the room.

Auriel blinked and walked over, then crouched down. Sure enough, there in the middle of the room was a Black Book, sealed away under metal and glass. She frowned at it a little, and tipped her head slightly curiously.

"So _tantalizingly_ close," Neloth sighed. "But no magic will open that, you have my word. I'd have had it already if it were that easy... No, we'll have to do this the hard way. If we can restore the steam supply to this room, I'm certain I can open it. As you'll see, that's... easier said than done. Come this way, I'll show you the boilers."

His control cube unlocked another door, and they took the Dwemer platform down.

"The last time I was here, I only explored a small part of the ruins," he said as they stepped off. "I was here alone then, and I find an assistant or two is absolutely essential for this kind of dirty, dangerous work."

Farkas put his mouth right next to Auriel's ear.

"Probably so he won't stain those robes of his," he breathed.

She stifled a laugh, and elbowed him gently. She had just been thinking that exact thing herself.

"Nchardak," Neloth proclaimed, gesturing as they entered into a mostly-flooded room. "The 'City of a Hundred Towers.' In its day, it was the largest of the great Dwemer Archives, and perhaps the most advanced. In the old stories, when the Nords came to conquer it, it's said that the Dwemer submerged the entire city beneath the sea until the invaders gave up. I have my doubts, of course, but the city was a marvel of Dwemer engineering. Now... reduced to this."

And he sighed a little, shaking his head. Auriel smiled faintly; he was less arrogant about it, but he almost reminded her of Calcelmo in Markarth. Entirely fascinated by Dwemer ruins and relics.

"As you can see, the lower levels are flooded. But it isn't hopeless; the old Dwemer pumps still seem to work. Watch."

He set the cube onto the pedestal, and smiled a little as the room shook, and the water started to drain.

"But, the pumps only operate when a cube is in the pedestal," he sighed. "And unfortunately, I only have one cube."

As the water lowered, it revealed the boilers, as well as a path that they could start exploring onto.

"These four boilers provide steam to the room upstairs," Neloth said. "They're shut down now, but I believe they'll still respond to a control cube. So, if we can find four more cubes, we can turn the boilers back on, and restore steam power to the room upstairs."

"And then the case will open," Auriel nodded, perhaps a trifle impatiently.

"Here, you bring that cube for a moment. We're going to need it."

She blinked, shrugged, and pulled the cube from the pedestal, then followed him back to an odd thing that she couldn't make heads or tails of, but he certainly seemed to understand. Behind them, water being filling the room again.

"Yes... here we are," he murmured. "This device shows the location of four more cubes in this section of the city. It looks like most of the cube were moved to the lower levels, perhaps to try and control the flooding before the city was abandoned. Interesting... that would suggest that the city must have originally sank during the first cataclysm of Red Mountain. _Or_ that the Dwemer's servitors continued to try and preserve the city after their creators' disappearance."

Auriel shook her head, and decided that her energy would be better served by tuning him out and watching their step. He moved off to the left, and motioned for her to follow.

"Three of the cubes are through here. This seems like the sensible place to start. Here, unseal the door with the control cube I gave you."

She did, and followed him through, Farkas at her heels.

"And I thought Vignar loved to hear himself talk," Farkas remarked quietly.

Auriel giggled a little, and had to agree.

The first cube was right inside the door, and Auriel blinked a little in surprise.

"I hope the rest of the cubers are this easy to find," Neloth commented. "Although, knowing the Dwemer, I rather doubt it."

"Agreed. On both counts."

Naturally, they were right. The first thing to jump them after lifting the cube from its pedestal was a pair of small Dwemer constructs, the ones Auriel had learned were called spiders. Irritants was more accurate. Beyond was a mostly-flooded room, and Neloth paused briefly.

"These must be the Great Workshops of Nchardak," he said. "Impressive, even in ruins. In the city's days of glory, it was reputed to be able to assemble a complete automaton in a single day. Much of the Dwemer army at the Battle of Red Mountain must have come from here."

At the end of the bridge were two control pedestals, and Auriel sighed a little. They were undoubtedly going to have to leave both cubes temporarily behind to properly lower the water level, and she was not looking forward to finding out what was underneath the water.

Lowering the water actually took a couple of tries. Mostly because she simply couldn't climb up a wall, and it took her a bit to decide to pull a cube off and hope for the best. The best turned out to be a set of stairs leading to a door, which was much more helpful. They found another cube, and were immediately beset by more dwemer spiders. Once they were beat into submission, the trio swam across the room to the other side; Auriel had _hoped_ it was circle around, but no such luck, so with a resigned sigh she went to fetch the other cube.

The water level was high enough to swim in, but that didn't make it terribly comfortable; the room on the other side was damp and moldy, and there was a new Dwemer construct there, one that looked like it damn well might fire arrows. Auriel shook her head and did her best to slip around it; she was _not_ in the mood to be shot.

Neloth, of course, didn't seem to _care_, and he attacked the construct with delight. Auriel just shook her head and slipped away; she was having no part of that. Farkas followed, though he chuckled a bit.

"What?"

"Just... you should see your expression, love," he teased gently. "So very disapproving."

"Hush you," she huffed at him, giving him a light, fond shove. "I just want this to be done and over with. Miraak is still out there. I hate looming doom."

He hugged her gently, and kissed her temple.

Taking the fourth cube activated a stem centurion, which Auriel couldn't let Neloth handle alone, despite the temptation. Her ribs didn't appreciate the bruising hit it landed, nor did her head enjoy making friends with the floor. Farkas, as always, took great exception to her being hurt, so while Neloth helped her to stand and healed her injuries, he beat on the centurion; Auriel smiled faintly as his hard hits knocked the core out of alignment and shut the thing down. That was her husband, all right.

He followed it up by worriedly checking her over, despite assurances that she was okay. Eventually she just batted his hands away, and they continued over the bridge and back to the main entrance.

Two cubes not only lowered the water, they woke up a good number of spiders and spheres, to say the fight was unpleasant was an understatement. And of course, there were more of those new ones—Auriel decided to call them ballistas, since that was what they looked like—covering the door that they had just _un_covered.

Like the first door, a control cube opened the gate and they were able to step on through. Neloth led the way down the short hall, which led to another semi-flooded room.

"The last one should be somewhere in here," he said. "I hope it won't require more swimming around in this filth... We'll have to get all three bridges down-Hey, are you listening?"

Auriel ignored him and made her way up the ramp to the bridge controls. It only took her two tries to get the three bridges down and she smiled in a faintly smug way as Neloth grumbled. Of course, lowering the bridges in this room did the same as taking the cubes in the other; it woke up a whole host of Dwemer automatons, that the three of them promptly had to fight.

"What a mess, Neloth complained, brushing off his robes as they finished. "I'm getting tired of wading around in this _muck!_"

"Oh stop," Auriel sighed in exasperation. "You're such a court mage."

"A _what?_" Neloth spluttered.

"A court mage," Auriel retorted. "Whiny, fussy, powerful, and a pain in my ass. Now stop complaining and let's find that last cube before you wear through the last of my patience!"

She set the cube in the pump controls, and watched as the water receded with mild annoyance.

"...I have an idea," Neloth said as the water retreated. "I'll wait here and retrieve this cube once you find the last one we need. Good luck!"

Auriel nodded testily and slipped off, Farkas close behind. Once out of sight, he reached out and rested a careful hand on her shoulder.

"You okay?"

"...no. I hate Dwemer ruins. Every time I go into one, something _bad_ happens," she grumbled. Then paused. "Though I suppose if Neloth died in here, I wouldn't feel that sorry about it."

"Auri..."

"Well I wouldn't," she huffed. "He's entirely a court mage. You and I are the ones with the armor and doing the heavy work! He's lucky I've got waterbreathing enchantments on our necklaces!"

After a moment Farkas just hugged her. Auriel sighed, and let herself relax as much as possible in armor.

"And just think," she grumbled. "When this is all over, I get to go prove myself to that Blade reject. Can I have a vacation first?"

"Sure, love. We can have one wherever you want."

She smiled a little ruefully and sighed.

"I'm sorry. I'm being terribly bad-tempered about this, aren't I?"

"Nah... Neloth _is_ acting like one of those College mages that doesn't get out much," Farkas grinned a little. "And I figure it's the air here on the island too. It's kinda... heavy. Y'know? I don't have the beastblood anymore, but there's this weird weight to it, even without those shrines around the stones. Going home will be a pleasure."

"And _how_," Auriel sighed. "But I suppose for the moment we have to find that last cube."

She kissed his cheek gently, and he kissed her temple in response. It made her smile, and also made her think... he had been patient, never pushing. Maybe she _was_ ready for that next physical step...

But not here or now. Once Miraak was done with, perhaps...

The room beyond was entirely too straightforward; two spinning blades blocked the easy path to the door; Farkas stayed back while Auriel dove between then and slapped a cube into the pedestal that opened the gate. Once the gate was open, the blades sank into the floor, and Farkas joined her.

"Here's the last one."

"Mmhm..."

"Ready, Far?"

"Ready."

Auriel grabbed the cube, and both of them quickly sprinted down the path. The water rose swiftly, but they made it to the main room and to the door. Neloth took the other cube, and the water rose higher, forcing the mage to swim once more. Fortunately the water stopped just short of their exit door, and Auriel made certain to not look at the dripping mage so as to avoid the temptation to giggle.

Damp of not, Neloth eagerly led the way to the boilers, clearly wanting nothing more than to turn them on and open the case for the book. They removed one of the cubes for the pumps, and started all four boilers with little ceremony.

"Good!" Neloth exclaimed, having to shout to be heard over the noise of the steam engines. "That seems to have done it! It took longer than I'd hoped, but at least we've finished now. Then he pointed a a bridge dropped behind them. "Look out! Another steam centurion!"

Auriel dodged quickly; Farkas blocked with his blade and was sent skidding back, but otherwise unharmed. Neloth joined the fight with lightning, and between the three of them, they managed to hit it hard enough to shut it down.

"I'm going to head back upstairs and see if the reading room has steam," Neloth said, attempting to wipe water from his face with his damp robes. "If so, it should be a simple matter to release the book."

Auriel nodded and followed after; she was definitely eager to see this done and over with.

"Yes!" Neloth cheered a little. "It worked! The steam is flowing! Now it should be as simple as..."

He reached out and pushed the button. Obligingly the glass parted, and the book was raised to floor level. Then the pedestal the book was one was raised itself. Auriel gave it a wary look.

"At last," Neloth sighed. "I hope it was worth it. Please, all yours. You did a good bit of the work, so the first one is yours."

Auriel glanced at him, a cynical eyebrow raising.

"Besides, it could be very dangerous," he continued. "These books are known to drive many people insane."

"I don't know if you're insulting my mental fortitude, or just being a pain again," she muttered. "But... thank you. I do appreciate the help. Perhaps we can find more books later."

"...That I would not be adverse to."

Farkas reached out and grabbed her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I'm right here," he murmured.

"Yes... but I don't think you can come with me, Far... but I promise, I will come back."

He nodded reluctantly, and sat down to wait. She let out a faint breath of unease, and turned and opened the book. Again, something in the pages itself seemed to lash around her, dragging her in.

When her vision cleared, she found herself in a place that defied description. She glanced up uneasily, and overhead tentacles started poking through the sky. Auriel grimaced and turned her gaze elsewhere as Hermaeus Mora's voice whispered gently into her ear.

_So, another seeker after knowledge enters my realm. This is Apocrypha. Where all knowledge is hoarded. Perhaps you will prove clever enough to uncover the secrets hidden here. If so... _welcome_._

She shivered a little at the menace in the last word, and tried to focus on the idea of going home. Back to Farkas. Hell, back to S_kyrim_.

_Perhaps you are a fool or a coward. If so, you are in peril. Read your book again and escape before Apocrypha claims you forever._

What the the greenish-yellow sky cleared, and Auriel found that she could breath again. But _oh_ that had made her wish desperately for Farkas. She may not have needed his protection, no, but his warmth would have been a very helpful thing at that moment.

She closed her eyes briefly, and let out a slow breath. The knowledge she sought was in here somewhere, and intimidating or not, she wasn't leaving without it. So she straightened her shoulders and started forward.

As she walked she took in more details. The pages that covered the floors, the leaning towers of books, and the paper whirlwinds. The halls themselves were made of books packed so tightly together as to form walls. The walls also tended to move as they willed, making it difficult to discover which direction her path was truly going. To call it disorienting was an understatement.

The water—if it could be called that—was an eerie black and green, with what looked to be writing tentacles popping out of it at random. She stayed _far_ away from them, and the water itself; it didn't look terrible inviting. If anything, it looked deadly.

The tentacles lashed out at random, but she was swift and deft; none of them touched her. That helped her breath a little easily. Whatever was odd about this plain of Oblivion, she still kept her skills intact.

Activating a book shifted her to a new space, this one a tunnel with paper whirlwinds all down the middle. They did her no harm, and imparted no knowledge, so she didn't worry too much about them. It wasn't until she expanded the tunnel to be used as a floor that the trouble started; she quickly found herself the darkest corner and began picking off her enemies one by one. Subjected to curiosity, she went through the remains of one of the tentacle-beings and found that its robes held books the like of which she had never before seen. Which naturally meant that she would simply have to take them back _with_ her.

Somehow.

She stuck them in her pack for the time being and hoped they would make the transition back with her.

As before, finding another book on a pedestal led her somewhere new. While her curiosity was growing, so was her wariness; this place was a scholars gold mine... but it was littered with traps and enemies. She would not be tempted to stay here for very long. More creatures that she mentally dubbed seekers—for they certainly seemed to be looking for something—made their way through her path. They had this nasty habit of cloning themselves, but the clones never appeared before the original, and once the original died, the clone went with.

The other ones, the fish-like ones, she decided were lurkers. For they certainly seemed to do just that, lurking around corners or in the inky, poisonous water below.

On she went, climbing stairs upwards practically on her hands and knees in her caution. The place she found would have been awe inspiring were it not so unnerving, and the number of book she was adding to her bag was undoubtedly going to weigh her down at some point... But it was not this point, and she was even starting to semi-understand how the odd landscape worked, and using the oddness of the shadows to her advantage. These creatures were daedra, but like any daedra—save a Prince—they could be killed.

That was, perhaps her only consolation as she found yet another book and ended up in yet another area.

This one was higher up, overlooking the vile water. And it was there that she at least found what she sought. She opened the book on its pedestal, and near jumped a foot when Hermaeus Mora appeared. The Prince's form was a mass of eyes and tentacles; unnerving enough as it was, she still had to lock her legs to keep from taking even a step back.

_All seekers of knowledge come to me sooner or later_ he said.

"...what do you want of me?" she asked, silently proud of the way her voice remained steady.

_You have entered my realm. You have sought out the forbidden knowledge that only one other has obtained. You are Dragonborn. Like Miraak before you. A seeker of knowledge, and power._

Well, she could hardly doubt his reasoning. She hesitated, considering her options. Angering the Daedric prince was likely to be a very bad idea, as was lying to him.

"...Yes," she finally said. "I came here to learn Miraak's secrets."

_All that he knows he learned from me. Here then, is the knowledge you need, although..._ and he chuckled, making her shiver slightly. _You did not know you needed it. Here. The second word of power. Use it to bend the wills of mortals to your purpose._

It felt slimy, and she cursed silently, even as she felt the word find its place with the other she had learned on Solstheim.

_But this is not enough_. Mora warned. _Miraak knows the final word. Without it, you cannot hope to surpass him. Miraak served me well, and he was rewarded. I can grant you the same power he wields, but... all knowledge has its price..._

Auriel swallowed a little.

"And what is this price?"

_Knowledge for knowledge. The Skaal have withheld their secrets from me for many long years. The time has come for this knowledge to be added to my library._

"...I'll see what I can do."

_I know you will_. He crooned. _And then, I will give you the knowledge that you seek. Send the Skaal shaman to me. He holds the secrets that will be mine._

Auriel bowed reluctantly; she was going to _hate_ herself for this later, but arguing with a Daedric Prince was generally a bad—and life shortening—idea. Once he vanished, she flipped open her Black Book again, and was all too happy to let Apocrypha fade out around her. Farkas helped her stay upright as she staggered in the Dwemer ruin once more.

"What happened?" Neloth demanded. "What did you see? Different people have different experiences when reading these books!"

Farkas tensed, and Auriel saw Neloth take a step back. Glancing up wearily, she saw her husband glaring daggers at the Dunmer. It was sweet.

"I spoke to Hermaeus Mora," she said weakly.

"You're acting surprisingly sane too," Neloth winced as Farkas growled slightly, and modulated his tone to sound less petulant. "What did he say? He must have wanted something from you..."

"...somehow I have to give him the secrets of the Skaal. Then he'll give me the third Word of Power I need to best Miraak."

"Bah," Neloth scoffed. "What secrets could they have worth keeping from old Mora? Sounds like a bargain to me! Hermaeus Mora learns some fascinating new ways to skin a horker, and you become the second most powerful Dragonborn that ever lived."

Auriel scowled, and Neloth stepped back a little.

"Well," he cleared his throat lightly. "That gives me a lot to think about. I need to go back to Tal Mithrya. I have some ideas about how to locate more of these Black Books..."

She shook her head as he turned abruptly, and walked out of the ruin. Then glanced up at Farkas, who's expression was more than concerned.

"I'm all right," she said quietly. "Just... tired. And scared. I hate that I've been backed into a corner like this..."

Gently he smoothed her hair.

"We'll figure it out," he said. "Maybe the Skaal will just... tell you stuff."

"...somehow, Far, I don't think it will be that easy."


	31. Thirty: To confront Miraak

Thirty:  
To confront Miraak

Stepping out of the ruin brought an instant fight with a dragon, one that had Auriel actually caught unawares. It spoke—the first to do so—proclaiming that Miraak had demanded her death. It did _not_ succeed, but it certainly did bump her temper right back up to intensely frustrated.

After that it was a trek of half a day to get back up to the Skaal village, with Auriel silent as she pondered the trouble; she doubted Mora's interest in the Skaal was likely to leave him alive. She wished there was a way to just... _tell_ the Daedric Prince what he wanted to know.

She pulled into herself, losing track of where they were as she turned the problem over. Fortunately for her, Farkas kept an eye on their surroundings, and caught up her hand when they reached the village. The contact startled her enough that she looked up, and grimaced.

"I really don't want to do this..."

"...yeah..."

He squeezed her hand lightly, and Auriel sighed, then pushed such emotions away. Like it or not, _want it_ or not, she had to do this. Hopefully... Hopefully Storn would understand.

They found him by his hut, kneeling in the snow, with Frea sitting on a bench nearby. He smiled at them faintly in greeting.

"...There's really no way to delicately say this," Auriel sighed, sitting down before him. "So I'll say it plain; Hermaeus Mora wants the secrets of the Skaal in exchange for the third Word of Power that will allow me to attack Miraak."

"Hermaeus Mora. Old Herma-Mora himself. So _he_ is the source of Miraak's power... Of course." Storn sighed a little. "We have many tales of old Herma-Mora trying to trick us into giving up our secrets to him. And now he comes again for what we have long kept from him..."

Auriel blinked.

"Herma-Mora?"

"That is our name for him. The Demon of Knowledge. He has always been our enemy."

"...I don't suppose you could tell me these secrets and then I could tell him?"

"No, child. It is knowledge passed from shaman to shaman since the All-Maker first gave Solstheim to the Skaal," he smiled sympathetically as Auriel muttered a quiet curse. "How to talk to the wind, how to speak to the earth... _these_ are our secrets. Nothing of power or mastery."

"Do you know why he'd want them?"

"It is in his nature to hoard secrets to himself; their value is of no consequence," Storn explained. "The very fact that the Skaal have kept knowledge from him has merely _increased_ his desire to have it."

"I'm sorry, but... it's the only way he'll teach me the third Word of Power," Auriel said quietly, looking down at her lap. She hated this more than she could bear, but she had to ask. Miraak would just keep trying to kill her if not.

"So it falls to me to be the one to give up our old secrets to our ancient enemy. I do not know if I have the strength to face him...The tree stone is still corrupted; the land is still out of balance. But with the other five... it will be enough. It will have to be."

"...you'll do it then?" Auriel couldn't help but be surprised. "You'll give him what he wants?"

"Yes. The Skaal also speak of a day when we must give up our secrets. When Herma-Mora finally wins," he sighed sadly. "As shaman, it is my duty to guard these secrets, but also to decide when it is necessary to give them up. I believe that time is now, and thus, I will. Give me the book; I will speak to old Herma-Mora myself, and make sure he lives up to his part of the bargain."

"I thank you," Auriel said softly, as she handed over the book. "I'm sorry."

"Please, make this sacrifice worthwhile."

"I'll try."

"Father!" Frea protested. "You must not do this! That book is... wrong. Evil. Against everything you have taught me my whole life!"

"I must, Frea," he replied. "It is the only way to free Solstheim forever from Miraak's shadow. There comes a time when everything must change. Nothing that lives remains the same forever..." He smiled at Frea gently. "Do not fear for me, my daughter. This is the destiny that the All-Maker has laid out for me."

"I stand beside you father... as always," Frea said after a moment.

Silently, Farkas moved up to stand behind Auriel, and she took mild comfort in his nearness.

"I am ready for whatever the foul monster of this book has in store for me," Storn declared firmly.

And then he flipped open the book.

It was _odd_ seeing it happen to someone else. The book laid quiet only for a moment, then it hovered, and vicious green tentacles flew out, slamming into and through Storn. Frea cried out and Auriel stepped back slightly, wanting to look away, but daring not to.

_At last, the Skaal yield up their secrets to _me_! Haha!_

Hermaeus Mora appeared in the air before them, again a writing mass of eyes and tentacles as Storn stood there, groaning a little.

"You... liar..." The old man groaned. "I... _won't!_ Not... for you..."

"Father, no!" Frea cried out. "Stop!" She turned to Auriel. "Do something!"

"...like _what?!_" Auriel snapped back. "I'm strong, yes, but I am not _that_ strong!"

_Dragonborn... you have delivered me the gift I requested. In return, I keep my promise as befits a Prince of Oblivion. I give you the Word of Power that you need to challenge Miraak._

Storn collapsed, dropping the book at Auriel's feet. She had the word, yes, but she hadn't wanted to do this. With reluctance she picked the book up; she would seal it away in the Archmage's tower back on Skyrim. Or maybe sink it into the ocean...

_You will be either a worthy opponent, of his successor, as the tides of fate decree._

With that, Hermaeus Mora vanished, leaving the body of Storn, and a grieving Frea, as well as a Dragonborn wracked with guilt.

"Father!" Frea sobbed, kneeling by his body. "What have you done!"

She bowed her head, and Auriel turned away fully, closing her eyes; this was not her pain to witness, but she felt it all the same. It reminded her too much of Kodlak's unnecessary death, and judging by Farkas' expression, it reminded him of the same.

"Go," Frea said hoarsely. "My father sacrificed himself so that you could destroy Miraak and lift his master's shadow from the land. Go then, _kill_ Miraak!"

Auriel nodded, and moved out of the village. They had seen enough for the day, and other than Farkas, she wanted no witnesses. She found herself a quiet spot near the ocean, then turned to her husband.

"If I fail..."

"You won't," he said firmly.

"Let me _finish_. If I fail, Farkas... Stay with the Skaal. Do what you can to protect them from Miraak. Please..."

He cupped her cheek, and she could feel a hint of his warmth through the leather glove.

"Okay," he said simply. "But I don't think you'll fail."

She smiled wearily.

"I appreciate your faith in me, but I'm hardly infallible. Failure happens to everyone."

"Yeah, but I've never seen you fail when it matters. So you won't fail."

She had to laugh, though it wasn't a happy sound. Farkas hesitated, then unhooked his breastplate, reached out, and pulled her close. Auriel buried her head against his shoulder and held on tight.

"...just come back to me," he murmured.

She tightened her hold on him; she would not make promises she wasn't sure she could keep. Not to him. Instead, after a moment she lifted her head, and pulled him down into a gentle, lingering kiss. Admittedly their first. His hand came up to rest softly against he back of her neck as he returned it, and they just stayed like that for several minutes.

Finally, reluctantly, Auriel pulled back.

"...I love you, Farkas," she said softly.

"Yeah... I love you too."

She pulled away from his hold, and turned to face the ocean, then reached into her bag, grabbed the black book that had lead her to Miraak the first time, and opened it.

When her vision cleared she was in the spot she remembered, but there was no Miraak to be seen. She grimaced a little and sighed; it was to be another trip through Apocrypha again, then. It just figured.

She sought a path through the stack, but unfortunately there wasn't one. She was made to go forward, to where there was no cover to be found, though fortunately not for long, the book she'd come to recognize as the one that moved her from place to place waited on a ledge, and shifted her to a different room. This one had cover and stairs, and a vaguely anticipatory air to it.

She jumped a food at a sound, turning her gaze upwards and behind. When nothing appeared beyond an odd floating light—everything had spikes and tentacles here, it seemed, including the lights—she slowly caught her breath and continued upwards. She was _really_ starting to hate this place.

Up more stairs and around the edge of the room she slipped, dispelling lurkers who had not seen her as she tried to find the next book that would lead her onwards. Curiosity led her to grab a few books she did not recognize from memory, and one of those seemed to open the way to her, to which she sighed in relief. Up the stairs again and through the opened gate she went, and found the book that took her to the next spot in the mad realm. She was slowly catching up to Miraak.

This one led to a dark hallway, lit at random and mostly lost to shadows. This, at least, was a place where Auriel could feel moderately safe, even though she knew she was anything but. She slipped and slid through them, using them to her benefit; her bow getting more of a workout than any of her spells. Seekers and tentacle pools did their best to damage and deter her; while she couldn't kill the tentacles, she could definitely kill the seekers.

Another book opened another gate, and she slipped silently towards it. This time she had to extend a hall, which led up to another tall room. Actually books fluttered through the air like birds or butterflies in this one, and she ducked on reflex as one actually swooped down on her. She hissed a soft curse at it, and kept a wary eye out for more of the rotten things; apparently knowledge had a nasty sense of humor.

She opened once gate by accident; it lead only to a dead end. Finding another of the 'On Apocrypha' books opened up her true path yet again. She wondered idly if Hermaeus Mora was subtly mocking her, even as she discovered the way.

She breathed out a quietly relived sigh as she slipped past a paper whirlwind and found the next transportation book. Auriel figured she would have to head up another floor at least before finally facing Miraak, and she found that she was correct. She also found that the seekers had a better capacity for invisibility, and swore a bit as she fought them down.

"I am getting so _tired_ of the plain of Oblivion!" she growled, pausing to eat and drink. "I swear, once I get my hands on Miraak, I am _never_ coming back here again."

Once replete, the took the stairs down, slipping into a hallway that was filled with harmless paper whirlwinds. She sighed a little; if only everything in the realm was so harmless, but that was not the way of knowledge. The number of things she wished she had never learned were well beyond count at this point.

She made herself push onwards; she would catch up to Miraak soon enough.

The end of the hallway shifted on her, drawing in, and sending a different section outward. She muttered quietly, and followed the change in direction warily. This one drew in as well, and she backtracked irritably, then stopped short as she realized she had _not_ gone back the way she'd come. Instead she was lead out to where there was no ceiling, only walls of books miles high, a single seeker that caught her by surprise—she was getting tired, more than ready to sleep at this point—and stairs that lead upwards to another of the On Apocrypha books.

The exit did not immediately present itself when she first looked, but creeping down the stairs revealed that another passage had opened in the walls of books, and she hurried down it. A bit without care, but luck was with her and enemies were not, though at first the hall seemed to dead-end into reading-styled alcoves. She hissed a little, and jumped a foot when stepping into one caused the hallway to extend before her.

Dark though it was, this time she was far more cautious; the seekers had proven their invisibility worked better, and the very air of Apocrypha worked against her; the creatures were native, and hard to discern without practice. And of course there couldn't only be one of them that she ran into, no, there had to be two.

She was _really_ not liking this Plain of Oblivion.

It was a light that let her through this time, changing the shape of the hall. She was getting used to the Realm, no matter how much she disliked it, and wished, briefly, that she dared read the book again and return to Farkas. But if she stopped now, it was unlikely that she would get another chance to catch up to Miraak before he escaped Apocrypha itself, and she just... couldn't let that happen.

So she pushed on.

A gate barred her path to the book that would take her further on, and despite her best attempt at stealth, a lurker arose from the inky water that was held in the middle of the room. She dodged the tentacle-laden acidic spit, and shot it straight in the face. It didn't go flying, but another shot convinced it to lie down instead of attacking. A light beyond opened up the gate and she darted up the stairs to reach the teleportation book at the end.

She let out a hissing stream of curses as her sight cleared and revealed no Miraak, but only a series of twisted book-built hallways. She was so close she could practically taste it, but she still had to circumvent these ridiculous trials! If there was one good thing about this whole mess, it was that she was definitely going to have plenty to read on her vacation with Farkas.

Auriel dispatched the seekers she could see, and cautiously looked around; it seemed as though she'd reached the top of the library, where the four books she'd picked up seemed to belong. At least, according to the picture on one of the pedestals it seemed like the place for them.

Returning the books did... _something_, but she could see no overt effect. Gingerly she approached the pedestal in the center, and found what she hoped was the final book, the one that would take her to Miraak.

Though tempted to curse at first when he did not appear, she instead held her breath and listened. Oh yes, she was _very_ close now. She could feel the thrum of a word wall nearby, and she moved with caution, energy returning to her as she neared the end.

The dragon was a surprise after the word wall, but after a moment she grinned. The Last word of the Bend Will shout had been the word for _dragon_, and she was not inclined to pass up the chance to use it.

The dragon protested, then landed at her demand.

"Hail, thuri," it greeted her grudgingly. "Your Thu'um has the mastery. Climb aboard, and I will carry you to Miraak."

She found a place to sit just behind his head and held on tight. It was very much _not_ like riding a horse, but it was exhilarating, to say the least.

"Beware," the dragon warned. "Miraak is strong. He knew you would come here."

Up they went, in a surprisingly smooth glide once they were off the ground. Apocrypha wasn't any more impressive from the air than it was on foot, but the rush of wind helped to clear Auriel's mind, and focus her, preparing her for the fight at the tower she could see they were approaching. Soon, this would be over. Either she would be dead, or Miraak would be dead.

"Land there!" she pointed as they reached the peak of the pillar.

"Yes, thuri."

He backwinged, then landed in the middle of the platform.

"Sahrolaar, are you so easily swayed?" Miraak asked mockingly. "We should properly greet our guest first. The first Dragonborn meeting the Last, at the summit of Apocrypha. No doubt just as Hermaeus Mora intended. He is a fickle master, you know."

Auriel scowled from her perch on the dragon's neck.

"But now, I will be free of him," Miraak continued. "My time in Apocrypha is over. You are here in _you_ full power, and thus, subject to _my_ full power. You will die. And with the power of your soul, I will return to Solstheim and be master of my own fate once again."

"Not if I have anything to say about it!"

Auriel vaulted off the dragon, and lifted her bow; the fight was fierce, and he took down his own two dragons as well as the one she had bent to her will to replenish his strength. But he could neither dodge, nor run, forever. His attempt at escape was thwarted by none other than Mora himself.

_Did you think to escape _me_, Miraak? You can hide _nothing_ from me here!_

He appeared, suspended over the middle pool of poisoned water, then was speared by a tentacle. Auriel grimaced a little.

_No matter. I have found a new Dragonborn to serve me._

"Oh like _hell_," Auriel muttered under her breath.

"May she be rewarded for her service as I am," Miraak groaned.

_Miraak harbored fantasies of rebellion against me. Learn from his example. Serve me faithfully, and you will continue to be richly rewarded_ the Daedric Prince crooned.

Auriel shuddered, and then fell to her knees as Miraak's soul fled his body and became her own. She was not inclined to serve Hermaeus Mora, _ever_, and she had no doubt that the Prince knew it. But it was safer to keep silent.

From the center of the summit rose a pedestal, and on it, a black book rested. She prayed it would be the last time she read one of the horrible things, and picked it up. Her vision faded, and she welcomed it gladly; she had survived. She would be returning to her husband.

Farkas caught her as she collapsed on the shore, holding her tightly. He pressed his face into her hair and she heard him whispering her name over and over and over. Frea, to her surprise, stood nearby.

"I can feel it again," the Skaal warrior breathed. "The Tree Stone is free again. The Oneness of the land is restored. Does that mean... is it over? Is Miraak defeated?"

"Yes. Miraak is dead," Auriel said wearily.

"Then my father's sacrifice... it was not in vain," Frea bowed her head a little, and let out a breath. "He died to free us. Tell me... was it the only way? Did he need to die?"

"I... don't know," Auriel admitted. "But without his sacrifice, I couldn't have defeated Miraak."

"Then... it was the All-Maker's will, as he said. I know I should not doubt it, but it is good to hear, all the same. Thank you."

Auriel nodded, and leaned against Farkas. She was just... so very tired.

"One more thing, Skaal-friend. Auriel," Frea said after a moment. "I know it is not my place, but... may I offer a word of advice? A warning?"

"Sure..."

"As shaman of the Skaal, I am charged with the spiritual well-being of my people," Frea sighed. "While you are not of the Skaal, you are Skaal-friend, and so I give you this warning; Herma-Mora forced you to serve him in order to defeat Miraak. Do not let him lead you further down that path. The All-Maker made you Dragonborn for a higher purpose. Do not forget that. Walk with the All-Maker, Auriel."

There was silence, and then footsteps as Frea walked away, back to her village. Auriel shifted a little, mostly just to curl more into Farkas' arms.

"Far?"

"Yeah?"

"...let's go home now, okay?"

"Okay."

Auriel closed her eyes, and slept.


	32. Thirty-one: Vampires

Thirty-one:

Vampires

They stayed in Windhelm for a while; Auriel's exhaustion wasn't permanent, but she wasn't inclined to go terribly far, and Farkas was more than willing to stay in Hjerim while she regained a measure of her energy. They were actually in town on one of Ulfric's visits; he'd received word that she was back and was coming to visit them specifically, as well as get some administrating for Windhelm itself done.

Auriel had agreed—reluctantly—to meet Ulfric at the palace. She hadn't much wanted to leave the comfort of Hjerim, but she hadn't wanted to explain _why_. Ulfric had gotten better, as most did when it came to dealings with her, about understanding the issues of magic, but she was trying very hard to _forget_ that she had ever been in Apocrypha. The dreams did not make it easy. Nor did the presence of the Black Books, tucked on the highest level of a bookshelf, but Auriel didn't know _what_ to do with those. At some point she was going to give them both to Neloth, but that would require retuning to Solstheim, a trip she had no energy for at the moment.

The day of the visit was cold and snowy, fairly normal weather for Windhelm, really. Auriel hadn't even really wanted to get out of _bed_ that morning, but Farkas had nudged at her gently until she had gotten up, then nudged her more until she was dressed and had eaten. Really, he was more her nursemaid than her husband at the moment, but he didn't complain. If anything, he worried about her more because she allowed him to do these things.

They managed to make it out in time to greet Ulfric, who was _attempting_ to be inconspicuous in his return to the city. Half a dozen Stormcloak soldiers made that a little difficult for him, really, but it was those soldiers that also ended up blocking a good chunk of the vampire attack. Auriel spotted them at the last second, and launched herself at Ulfric, yanking him out of the ring of guards and to the ground. The vampire got one of the guards instead. Ralof promptly turned and pounded on the vampire, while his companions took care of the two thralls that had helped to smuggle the vampire in. Auriel and Farkas both flanked the startled Jarl, ushering him through the crowd to the Palace of Kings.

"...well," he said once the three of them were safely inside. "That wasn't _quite_ how I wanted to be welcomed back to the city. I see your reflexes are as good as ever, my sister."

He led the way through the main hall and up to one of the guest rooms, where he promptly sat on one of the beds. Auriel remained standing uneasily.

"That was too close," she muttered, running a hand over her face. "I knew the vampires were trouble, but I'd no idea they were becoming so bold..."

"They are trouble, yes," Ulfric sighed a little. "It seems everywhere I go these days, I hear about vampire attacks or werewolves, or Talos knows what else. According to some reports, the Hall of the Vigilant of Stendarr was destroyed by vampires, and there's even talk of a Dawnguard being formed in a fort near Riften, under the leadership of a man named Isran."

Auriel sighed a little. So much for taking some time off to relax... Vampires were also not a threat she could allow to stand. Not to mention they had just attacked one member of her small circle of friends, and _that_ she would not forgive. The fact that Ulfric was poised to be next High King was also part of the point.

"Are you well, Auriel?" Ulfric asked, peering at her in concern. "You look pale and weary... aren't you the one who was lecturing me on getting enough rest?"

"She sleeps," Farkas said a little defensively, before Auriel could say the same thing.

Ulfric just raised an eyebrow, and the redhead sighed.

"I don't want to talk about it, Ulfric. Oh, and by the way..." she reached out and smacked him on the shoulder. "_That_ is for your insistance that I go visit the Graybeards and get confirmed as Dragonborn. You have _no_ idea how much trouble you've caused for me!"

Ulfric smiled ruefully, and rubbed his shoulder lightly; she hadn't put any real force to the blow, both because of exhaustion and because she wasn't actually inclined towards hurting him.

"My apologies, my friend. That was certainly not the intention. I had simply hoped they would help you to better understand the language you speak, and the power your wield."

"Well, they did do that," Auriel sighed. "But they also got me pestered by a former member of the Blades, _and_ I had to go traipsing all over Solstheim to make sure I wasn't leaving an enemy at my back! So I am _not_ pleased. I-"

She wobbled, and Farkas was quick to catch her.

"Easy love," he murmured, helping her to sit on a bench. "Here. Drink this."

He popped the cork on a small bottle of Black-Briar mead, and handed it to her. She drank, but it was reluctant. She did not _like_ using mead to help calm down; it loaned itself to far too many problems in the future, and she didn't want to depend on outside help to keep her calm.

"...what happened?" Ulfric asked quietly. "What is wrong?"

"You've heard of the various planes of Oblivion, yes? Places like Coldharbour, Evergloam, and the like?"

"Vaguely. I studied the Oblivion Crisis as a boy. Why?"

"I've been to Apocrypha. And Divines help me, a small part of me wants to go back there."

She shuddered, and Farkas held her comfortingly, resting his chin lightly on her head.

"...I think you'll have to tell me the _whole_ story, sister," Ulfric said after a long silence.

"Only if you don't ask questions," Auriel warned. "If you stop me, I don't know if I'll be able to continue."

"I promise."

So she told him, as she'd told Farkas. She told him of the cultists, of Miraak, of the Skaal, and of the terror and desire Apocrypha created. Of Hermaeus Mora, who would undoubtedly try to use her again and again to gain knowledge, possibly placing her in unenviable situations that she could not escape from as he did.

They did not, fortunately, have interruptions. They did however, find out that Ralof had been eavesdropping when Ulfric pulled open the door so that they could go downstairs for something to eat, and the blond man almost fell into the room.

"...Ralof," Ulfric sighed, disappointment in his voice. "You should not be listening to conversations that are not your business."

"Apologies, sire, but... well, it's hard to not listen to such a lovely voice," he said sheepishly.

Auriel just groaned and hid her face in Farkas' shoulder; she was _not_ in the mood to deal with him and his flirtations. Being married hadn't much changed _that_ part of their interactions. Farkas, for his part, just sighed, and lifted Auriel up into his arms, cradling her gently.

"Go," Ulfric ordered. "Say nothing of what you've heard. If a whisper reaches me, the consequences will be unpleasant."

"Yes, sir," Ralof nodded, and hurried off.

Ulfric then turned to Auriel, who watched with half-lidded eyes.

"You are in no position to go anywhere," he said sternly, "unless it is to Hjerim, where I can check up on you. You are clearly exhausted and not yourself."

"...someone's feeling bossy," she murmured, a tiny smile flickering across her face.

"You're letting your husband carry you," Ulfric pointed out. "You don't normally do that."

"Mmm... But it's rather nice."

And sometimes it was the only way she could get _any_ sleep was to let Farkas cradle her as though she were a child. Other times, asking him to read for her had helped as well, and the shelves of Hjerim were filled to the brim with the books she'd scavenged from Apocrypha.

"Auriel... I can guess that you want to go after the vampires, but... please give yourself some time," Ulfric said after a long minute. "If _I_ can see that you're exhausted, no doubt others will, or have seen it as well, and they will not hesitate to take advantage of it."

"...if you're asking me to do something like _that_, Ulfric, then you're going to have to stay here so I don't worry," Auriel said dryly. Then her tone turned serious. "They attacked you in your own city, in broad _daylight._ If I hadn't been waiting, they may well have torn through your guards and gotten you. What they have done has made it personal; but _no one_ gets to attack my family and get away with it."

"Auri," Far tightened his hold slightly.

"No, Farkas," she said shortly. "I am tired of the fighting, I will not lie, but this is not an enemy I can leave unchallenged."

"I'm not saying you should do that," Ulfric held up his hands peaceably. "Just wait until you're strong again. You're a stubborn Altmer, I'm sure you can do it."

"Auri, he has a point," Farkas said quietly. "You really do need to recover first. Please..."

She grimaced, and sighed.

"Yes, yes, I know! I know..."

"If it would make you feel better, you could stay here at the palace," Ulfric offered, a faint, wry smile on his face. "You can help me with the various administrative details I came here to take care of."

"Very funny, Stormcloak," Auriel huffed. "Do your own paperwork. It may actually keep you safe for a few weeks; in town they might be, but I doubt they're mad enough to try and storm the palace."

"Damn," He sighed theatrically. "Here I was hoping you might take some pity on me for it."

"Not a chance, Ulfric. Not a chance."

She did, however, take his advice about resting up. Talking about it had helped somewhat, though it could not entirely banish the desire to return to that benighted lands of books. Farkas did what he could to take her mind off of it, mostly by handing her a sword and teaching her how to use it. They discovered together that the sword and shield method didn't really work for her, but the sword and dagger method did just fine. If nothing else, it built up her physical strength, while at the same time tiring her out enough to actually sleep most nights.

About the time that Ulfric finished all of his paperwork, Auriel decided that she was well enough to set off to Riften. They said fond farewells—Ralof had kept his mouth shut well, and she even deigned to give him a brief handshake, with Farkas over her shoulder to ensure it didn't go on too long—before setting off in opposite directions; Ulfric to Solitude, and Auriel and Farkas to Riften.

Of course, it was impossible to go to Riften without visiting both Brynjolf and Karliah, Mostly because coming around Riften meant checking in on the status of the Guild. Brynjolf and Farkas circled each other for a while in a way that was highly entertaining to the two mer women, before settling into a cautious alliance. Karliah, meanwhile, caught Auriel up on the Guild's latest triumphs, and the amusing stories of what had happened since her last visit. They were acquiring new members, though not quickly, and the new ones were brought to meet Auriel. Their surprise was well worth the delay.

Eventually they left Riften in search of Fort Dawnguard. Not that it was terribly hard to find, though it was a few miles out of Riften. They didn't rush, but neither did they take their time; stronger she might be, but Auriel was still not back up to the fullness of her abilities, and Farkas wasn't inclined to let her push it. They traveled through a snow covered pass, and came out in a valley that was a mix of green and white. A good portion of the water was frozen, but it still flowed readily enough. Near a series of waterfalls, they met a young man who was also seeking the Dawnguard.

"Hello there," he greeted them a little shyly. "Are you here to join the Dawnguard too?"

"Mmm."

"Truth is, I'm... well, a little nervous. I've never done anything like this before. Would you mind if... If I came up with you two?"

Auriel shrugged. First joining jitters were long behind her now, but she felt a touch of sympathy for the Nord, who looked as though he was only just out of boyhood.

"I don't mind."

He flushed a little, and she stifled a smile.

"Hey, uh... don't tell Isran I was afraid to meet him by myself... Not the best first impression for a new vampire hunter."

"Just walk, lad," Auriel said dryly. "And don't panic. If they're looking for recruits, I'm sure you'll do."

"...you look like someone who's killed lots of vampires," the Nord said. "I'm sure Isran will sign you right up. Who knows if he'll take me... I hope so."

Auriel just shook her head slightly; nervous babbling. She turned him out and took in the sights as they approached the fort. The trees were golden-leaved hardy things; no doubt the kind that would bend in the winter weather, not break. A few rabbits crossed their path, hurriedly scampering out of the way of three pairs of tromping feet, and Auriel smiled faintly. Maybe soon she would be able to take a longer vacation. Get a pet or something. Settle into one house for a time, and just... enjoy being with Farkas again.

As if sensing her thoughts, Farkas reached out and took her hand. She smiled up at him and gave his hand a small squeeze.

The fort itself was huge, albeit in some mild disrepair. There was almost no one outside, though there were mildly fortified camps that suggested people _had_ been there recently. There was only one person they found, and he seemed to be doing target practice with an odd device that Auriel had heard of, but never seen. Most folk in Skyrim still favored manual longbows to the newer crossbows. She hadn't yet tried the latter, but had to admit her own preference was still currently for her own ebony bow.

There was a vegetable garden nearby that was flourishing; it made her smile a little. Only in Skyrim could one find snow on the ground with the vegetables. They were hardy things, at least...

The finally encountered a guard at the entrance to the fort itself. He was a brown-haired Breton, who introduced himself as Celann.

"New recruits, eh?" He studied them with a faintly perturbed look. "Go on in. Isran will decide if you've got what it takes. He should be just inside."

Auriel nodded, and moved past him, pushing the door open.

Isran was a Redguard man, with what looked like a permanent scowl on his face and a thick black beard that apparently took place from the hair that had fallen from his head. He was also in the middle of an irritated discussion with a member of the Vigilant Order of Stendarr.

"Why are you here, Tolan?" He asked irritably. "The Vigilant and I were finished with each other a long time ago."

"You know why I'm here," Tolan retorted. "The Vigilants are under attach everywhere. The vampires are much more dangerous than we believed."

"And now you wanna come running to safety with the Dawnguard, is that it?" Isran's voice held a mocking edge to it. "I remember Keeper Carcette telling me repeatedly that Fort Dawnguard is a crumbling ruin, not worth the expense and manpower to repair. And now that you've stirred up the vampires against you, you come begging for my protection?"

"Isran... Carcette is dead," Tolan said softly. "The hall of the Vigilants... everyone, they're all dead. You were right, we were wrong; isn't that _enough_ for you?"

Auriel's eyebrows raised slightly; she'd heard that the Vigilants were having trouble, but to hear that the hall had been destroyed, the people all killed. That was news indeed, and she wondered how it hadn't traveled faster.

"Yes well..." Isran looked away briefly, and cleared his throat slightly. "I never wanted any of this to happen. I tried to warn all of you... I am sorry, you know."

That seemed to be the point at which Isran saw the trio standing in the doorway, and he turned away from the Vigilant to approach them.

"So who're you?" he asked, looking straight at Auriel. "What do you want?"

"To join," she replied with a light shrug.

"Got a fire in your belly to kill vampires, eh?" He smirked a little. "Good for you. But look around, there's nothing really to join yet. I've only just started rebuilding the order."

"Then you clearly need all the help you can get," Auriel replied evenly.

Isran's eyebrows went up, and she smiled slightly. She had surprised him, and that was a good thing.

"I need someone out in the field, taking the fight to the damn vampires while we're getting the fort back into shape," he admitted lowly. "Tolan was telling me about some cave the Vigilant were poking around in. Seemed to think it was connected to these recent vampire attacks. Tolan," he turned back to the Vigilant man standing there. "Tell her about... what was it, Dimhollow?"

Tolan nodded.

"Yes, that's it. Dimhollow Crypt. Brother Adelvald was sure it held some long-lost vampire artifact of some kind. We didn't listen to him any more than we listened to Isran. He was at the Hall when it was attacked..."

"That's good enough for me," Isran nodded. "Go see what the vampires were looking for in this Dimhollow Crypt. With any luck, they'll still be there. And here, you should take a crossbow. Good for taking out those fiends before they get close."

He slung one at her, and another at Farkas.

"And feel free to poke around the fort and take what you need," he continued. "There isn't much yet, but if you can use it, grab it."

"I'll meet you at Dimhollow, Tolan interjected. "It's the least I can do to avenge my fallen comrades."

"Tolan, I don't think that's a good idea," Isran said warningly. "You Vigilants were never trained for-"

"I know what you think of us," Tolan snapped. "You think we're soft, that we're cowards. You think our deaths _proved_ our weakness. Stendarr grant that _you_ do not have to face the same test and be found wanting. I'm _going_ to Dimhollow Crypt. Perhaps I can be of some small assistance."

Tolan stalked out the front door, and Auriel shook her head slightly. Wounded pride was never a good reason to go to battle, and she had no doubt that it would get him killed. Isran sighed a little himself, then turned his attention to the boy that had followed them up. Auriel moved off into the fort to see what there might be worth using as Isran began instructing him on the use of a crossbow.

The Redguard had been accurate about admitting not much was there, but Auriel managed to find a few useful things. There were rooms set up as though they would be for a blacksmith, or an alchemist. She tested her own crossbow on a target, and decided that she disliked the kickback of it. She put it aside, and gave the bolts to Farkas, who seemed like he actually enjoyed it.

She found a couple of dogs, and had to chuckle; she'd never expected to find something so light-hearted as that in this gloomy fort. She didn't doubt they were trained to hunt vampires, like the people within, but they clearly wanted to play, and she was willing to indulge in it for the moment. There was a training area that was not all-together useless, but on a whole, the fort itself was going to need a _lot_ of work. Not to mention a lot of recruits. As it was now, the place was clearly vulnerable to attack, which wouldn't do very well.

Auriel shook her head a little as she left; not only would Isran have his work cut out for him, so would all the recruits who came up the pass.

They ended up taking a cart from Riften to Windhelm, and then walking the rest of the way through the Pale to find the ruined Hall of the Vigilants. It was near to one of the forts she'd worked to liberate, Dunstad, and the Stormcloaks there gave the a hearty greeting, along with food and space to sleep through the cold night. Auriel was up early, and found that her energy level was much-improved. Maybe she was tired of fighting, but she was... perhaps used to adventuring. It seemed to help, at least a little bit.

The went through the wrecked Hall first, in hopes that something there might provide a clue, but other than dead bodies, ash, and blood, there was little to be found. The path that led to Dimhollow Crypt was just beyond, and Tolan was nowhere in sight. The only sign that someone _had_ been there was a sputtering torch planted in the snow. Auriel shook her head with an exasperated sigh, and motioned for Farkas to follow her in as silently as possible.

"These Vigilant never know when to give up," she heard one male vampire snort. "I thought we'd taught them enough of a lesson at their hall."

"To come in here alone," a woman this time. "A fool like all the rest of them."

"He fought well, though," the male said appraisingly. "Jeron and Bresoth were no match for him."

"Hah!" the woman again. Auriel motioned for Farkas to creep up with her. "Those two deserved what they got! Their arrogance had become insufferable."

"All this talk is making me thirsty," the male sighed faintly. "Perhaps another Vigilant will wander in soon."

The cavern was snow-covered, making it difficult to step quietly, but the pair made it in without being caught. Farkas pulled out the crossbow as Auriel shifted her bow into her hands.

"I wish Lokil would hurry it up, the woman complained. "I have half a mind to return to the castle and tell Harkon what a fool he's entrusted this mission to."

"And _I_ have half a mind to tell Lokil of your disloyalty."

"You wouldn't dare," she snapped. "Now shut up and keep on watch!"

Auriel smiled faintly, and nodded fractionally. The click of a crossbow and the soft twang of her bowstring was followed by two solid thumps, and both vampires hit the floor. The hound was unexpected, but Farkas managed a quick enough reload to take it out, and Auriel smiled faintly again.

"Maybe there is something useful in a crossbow," she teased softly. "Or perhaps it's the one using it...?"

He grinned a little, and shrugged. Fondly she kissed his cheek.

Bars over the tunnel mouth meant that they had to find the release, but it wasn't to hard without an enemy in sight. And vampires, Auriel discovered had a unique scent all their own. Dust, ash and blood. Not terribly pleasant, but when it came to tracking them, it was helpful to know.

Like most caves and tombs, draugr were present, and didn't take kindly to interlopers. Admittedly they had little chance against the strength of the vampires, but still. It was interesting to watch, and easy to take out the survivor.

The tunnels continued down, and the weight of the rock overhead was not a comforting feeling for Auriel, but she did her best to keep a lid on her unease. No point in complaining about it when it couldn't be fixed or altered.

Skeletons in the tomb seemed to serve the vampires, which came as no surprise. They were also, as always, terrible easy to take out. It was nice to have easy enemies every now and again. The vampires had taken care of the spiders, and Auriel smiled faintly; it seemed as though everything in this cave had it out for the undead. That was heartening.

A door led them further in, deeper, and suggested that the cavern itself was merely a front for what had truly been happening.

"I'll never tell you anything, vampire!" A vigilant said as they slipped into the stone room. "My oath to Stendarr is stronger than any suffering you can inflict on me."

She crept up silently, peering carefully over the railing, just in time to see the vampire shove a dagger into the Vigilants' chest.

"Are you sure that was wise, Lokil?" his female companion asked. "He still could have told us something. We haven't gotten anywhere ourselves with..."

"He knew nothing," Lokil sneered. "He served his purpose by leading us to this place. Now it's up to us to bring Harkon the prize."

Auriel set an arrow to her string, and loosed; she didn't much care what this vampire had to say, nor his help. If he wanted something down here, well, she wasn't going to let him have it. At all. Farkas shot at the other vampire with him, and there were two more dead bodies, adding to the toll.

"...was _that_ a good idea?" Farkas asked softly.

Auriel snorted a little, and shrugged.

"Good idea or not, it's done with. Besides, do you _really_ want to know what a vampire will do with something down here?"

"...not really, no."

"Then it was a good idea. Come on. Maybe the Vigilant has something on him that can help us."

Though there were no more enemies to be seen, they still moved with care and stealth. The journal they found near the Vigilant was, unfortunately, of little help. It seemed they would have to figure this out the hard way; through guesswork and luck.

The cavern, now that Auriel could stop and take it in, was impressive. A stone island rose from the middle of the lake, though the shape of it reminded her of the things the Skaal and the people of Solstheim had been building on Raven's Rock. Things of Miraak's creation. Her first instinct was a desire to destroy it. She stifled it, reluctantly, and went to see what to do with it.

She depressed a button, and swore sharply as a blade stabbed through her hand, yanking back as a bluish purple glow sprang up from the inner ring of the island. Farkas caught her before she could fall, and hissed in sympathy at the injury. Auriel's convalescent time had not been spent in vain, however; while she was still not terribly _good_ at restoration spells, she could at least heal herself now.

"You okay?" he asked.

"...I feel like a fool," she grumbled.

He kissed her forehead, then looked warily at the light.

"What's that?"

"I don't know, but..." She glanced around thoughtfully. "My guess is that we have to somehow align the braziers before we'll see what treasure Lokil was speaking of."

She pushed one to the outer rim, and startled a little when it lit up with flames. The faint shake suggested her hypothesis, however, was correct. Farkas seemed wholly uncomfortable with this, and she couldn't blame him; this whole island was creepy.

After all the braziers had been shifted to their places, the island gave a final shake, and the whole thing shifted down with a grating of stone on stone. It revealed a stone monolith that had been hidden. Carefully Auriel moved forward, seeking a seam of some type that she might be able to pry open. Instead, half the monolith shifted down, revealing a black haired woman, who fell forward as its support fled. She had a scroll on her back, and when she looked up—for Auriel had stepped back reflexively uncertain of this new person and wary of repercussions—glowing eyes.

"Uh... where is... who sent you here?" she groaned, standing upright.

"Why?" Auriel asked warily. "Were you expecting someone in particular?"

"I was expecting someone... like me, at least," she admitted.

"You mean a vampire."

"...yes."

Auriel frowned. This spoke of something beyond what Isran thought; it might be more useful to keep this woman alive. Especially if the scroll on her back was exactly what she thought it was. It looked too much like an Elder Scroll to be anything but, really.

"Why were you locked away?" the redhead finally asked, giving Farkas a subtle hand-signal behind her back to stand down. They had no quarrel with this vampire yet, and there was no point in attacking someone who might give useful information for the moment.

"That's... complicated. And I'm not totally sure if I can trust you. But if you wanna know the whole story, help me get back to my family's home."

Auriel cocked her head a little, then nodded.

"All right, where are we going?"

"My family used to live on an island to the west of Solitude. I would guess they still do." She paused, then nodded a little. "By the way; my name is Serana. Good to meet you."

"Auriel," and Auriel nodded a little herself. "And this is Farkas."

"Yours?"

"Yes. Very much so."

Serana smiled faintly, then looked around.

"This place looks a lot different from when I was locked up," she sighed a little. "It's going to be interesting finding the way out..."

"Oh, I'm fairly sure it's doable," Auriel smiled faintly. "Just follow the fresh air."

It was that easy... for about five minutes. And then came the gargoyles. They exploded out of their stone forms with enough force that the stone hit hard enough to stun, knocking Auriel backwards into Farkas' hold. He growled and stood protectively over her, but it was Serana who took the pair out. Auriel, once she'd regained her wits, rubbed at her forehead and muttered a few choice curses.

The way out led through a handful of undead. No vampires, but draugr and skeletons were annoyance enough. Serana shook her head a little with the battle done, and glanced at Auriel.

"Does the air feel... heavy down here?" the vampire asked. "Maybe it's just because I woke up, but I feel a bit... woozy."

"It's not just you," Auriel shook her head, "though having just woken up probably doesn't help any. Come on, this way."

She felt the thrum of the word wall before she saw it, and hissed quietly. Of course, there were a dozen undead of various types between her and it. She crept around the edges of the battle, picking her shots with care; she was starting to run low on her arrows and would need to buy more soon enough.

Once they were done, and the word collected, only a door and a gate blocked their escape into the open air, both obstacles quickly removed at that. At the exit, all three stopped and breathed deeply, almost in unison.

"Ah," Serana sighed, even as she pulled her hood up. "It's so _good_ to breathe again! Even in this weather, it's better than the cave. Though it's so bright out here. How do you stand it?"

Auriel smirked slightly.

"By not being a vampire," she said.

Serana snorted a little, a smile flickering across her own face in response.

"Fair enough. Which way are we going?"

"North and a lot west. It's going to take a few days. Let's get moving."

"Agreed."


	33. Thirty-Two: Building up strength

Thirty-two:

Building up strength

They found a jetty just beyond Northwatch, and the island was vaguely visible through the cold mists. The boat near the jetty was in decent enough repair, and Farkas' strength got them across fairly quickly.

Serana hesitated at the midway point of reaching the castle, then reached out and caught Auriel's arm. Auriel turned with a faint grimace, and the vampire released her making an apologetic face.

"Hey, so... before we go in there..."

"...yes?"

"I wanted to thank you for getting me this far, but after we get in there, I'll have to go my own way, you know. I think..." Serana shook her head lightly. "Just... don't attack anyone in here, okay? It wouldn't end well at all."

Auriel nodded.

"One more thing. Let me take the lead. Don't say anything, okay?"

"...if you're that worried, I could leave you here," Auriel offered dryly.

Serana shook her head a little, hastily.

"No, you've earned a reward just for getting me out of the crypt. I don't know what my father will offer you, though. So just be careful."

Again, Auriel nodded, and they continued up.

"Lady Serana's back!" came the cry. "Open the gate!"

The portcullis raised, and the... man? Vampire? Auriel couldn't actually tell with the wind blowing the wrong direction, and the light directly in his face. He smiled.

"After all these years, Lady Serana's back," he sighed happily. "Now that's something."

Serana smiled a little, and made her way into the keep, Auriel and Farkas close behind. They were confronted immediately inside the door by another vampire, who glared at the three of them.

"How dare you trespass here!" he snapped. Then he stopped as Serana lowered her hood. "Wait... Serana? Is that you? I cannot believe my eyes!"

He turned and went to the balcony, leaning on it and clapped his hands to get the attention of the people below.

"My lord! Everyone! Serana has returned!"

"I guess I'm expected," Serana said wryly.

They made their way down the stairs, and a vampire stepped down from the dais, a hungry smile on his face.

"My long-lost daughter returns at last," he said "I trust you have my Elder Scroll?"

Auriel hissed softly; so she _was_ right, and the scroll slung over Serana's shoulders _was_ an Elder Scroll. Serana frowned a little.

"After all these years, _that's_ the first thing you ask me?" she questioned, a flicker of hurt trawling through her voice. "Yes, I have the scroll..."

"Of course I'm delighted to see you, my daughter. Must I really say the words aloud?" he sighed. "Ah, if only your traitor mother were here, I would let her watch this reunion before putting her head on a spike."

Farkas shifted uneasily behind Auriel, and she reached back to subtly press her hand against his arm; they did not need to draw attention to themselves right now. Not at all.

"Now tell me," the vampire lord continued. "Who is this stranger you have brought into our halls?"

"This is my savior," Serana replied. "The ones who freed me."

"For my daughter's safe return, you have my gratitude," the vampire lord said smoothly. "Tell me, what is your name?"

"Auriel Talmanari," and she lifted her chin slightly. "And you?"

"I am Harkon, lord of this court. By now, my daughter will have told you what we are..."

Auriel shrugged lightly; it hadn't been that hard to _guess_, really, but she was not going to give this one a flippant answer. He was the type who would take exception to it, and she was inclined towards leaving with her life, and Farkas' intact.

"Vampires."

"Not _just_ vampires," he corrected. "We are among the oldest and most powerful vampires in Skyrim. For centuries we live here, far from the cares of the world. All that ended when my wife betrayed me, and stole away that which I valued most."

She kept her cynical thoughts to herself; Harkon was very good at concealing his body language, and keeping his voice even. She could catch only a glimpse of a tell that suggested he wasn't talking about Serana, and it was far safer to pretend she saw nothing at all.

"...And now?" she asked instead.

"You have done me a great service, and now you must be rewarded," he smiled winsomely. "There is but one gift I can give that is equal in value to the Elder Scroll and my daughter. I offer you my blood. Take it, and you will walk as a lion among sheep. Men will tremble at your approach, and you will never fear death again."

"While flattered beyond words at your generosity, I find I must respectfully decline your offer. I am quite content as I am."

"So be it," he frowned. "You are prey, like all mortals. This is the one time you will be allowed to freely leave this place. Return, and you will be nothing more than food."

"You are generous," Auriel murmured. "My thanks for the safe passage."

And she grabbed Farkas by the wrist, and pulled him out the castle. He followed willingly, and it wasn't until they were on the opposite shore that Auriel let out a long gusty sigh.

"...that was close..." Farkas said quietly.

"It was," she agreed, pressing a hand to her face. "The number of hungry stares on those faces was... more than slightly unnerving."

"Yeah."

"Come on. It's going to take us a while to get back to the Fort, but Isran needs to hear about this as soon as possible."

Farkas nodded, and they made their way to Solitude, to take the cart back to the Riften stables, and then walk the remaining path to the fort. It took them the better part of three weeks, and occasionally Auriel caught her mind wondering about Serana. True, they hadn't abandoned the girl, but it hardly seemed like the wisest place to leave her...

Coming up the path to find a coupe vampires trying to attack really wasn't as much of a surprise as it probably should have been. Isran had it all but handled, and he spat on the corpses with a scowl.

"Look a this," he muttered. "I should've known it was only a matter of time before they found us... It's the price we pay for openly recruiting. We'll have to step up our defenses. I don't suppose you have some _good_ news for me?"

"Ah... not exactly..."

"Damn. Well, what _do_ you know?"

"The vampires were in Dimhollow looking for a woman that was buried there," Auriel began.

"A woman? Trapped in there? That doesn't make sense," he interrupted. "Who is she? More importantly, _where_ is she?"

Auriel sighed.

"She wanted to go home, so I took her home."

"I'm waiting to hear what this _means_, girl."

Now she rolled her eyes irritably.

"They have an Elder Scroll," she snapped.

"They _what?_" Isran's eyebrows rose in shock. "And you didn't _stop_ them, or secure the scroll?"

"I value my life, thank you," Auriel shot back. "As good as I am, suicide by vampires is not high on my list of ways to go!"

"Hpmh," He sighed. "So they have this woman, _and_ an Elder Scroll. By the Divines, this couldn't get much worse. This is more than you and I can handle."

"It can always get worse," Auriel retorted, "but it can also get _better_. There's always something that can be done..."

"Well of course there is," Isran snorted a little. "I'm old, not stupid. We're just going to need some help. If they're bold enough to attack us here, this may be bigger than I thought. I have good men here, but... There are many people I've worked with over the years. We're going to need their skills, their talents, if we're going to survive this. If you can find them, we might have a chance."

"Where do I need to go, and who do I need to find?"

"Right to the point, aren't you?" he smiled a little dryly. "I like that. Not like those fools in the order. We should keep it small. Too many people and we'll draw unwanted attention to ourselves. I think we'll need Sarine Jurad. Breton girl, whip-smart, likes tinkering. Fascinated with Dwemer artifacts. Mostly weapons. Last I know, she was out in the Reach, convinced she was about to find the biggest dwarven ruins yet."

"You think she'll help?" Auriel raised an eyebrow. "The Dwemer-obsessed are generally less than useful..."

"Might need a little convincing," he shrugged slightly, "but she should. You'll also want to find Gunmar. Big brute of a Nord; hates vampires almost as much as I do. Got into his head a few years back that his experience with animals will help. Trolls in particular, from what I hear... Last I knew, he was out scouring Skyrim for more beasts to tame. Bring those two back here, and we can get started in coming up with a plan."

Auriel nodded, sighed a little, then turned away, and made for Riften. The Breton would be easy enough to track; there were only so many places in the Reach to go, after all. But the Nord... that was going to take some time.

Ironically, she heard about the Nord first, but that was because he was actually closer than she'd expected. Up in the mountains near Helgen, and thus, she went after him first. By the time they returned to Riften, there was word on the girl, at the far edge of the Reach. She took longer to get to, but the effort was worth it.

And it was sort of nice to wander around all of Skyrim again.

By the time they made it back to the fort, there were a few noticeable improvements. Fishing supplies near the lake, a fully formed log wall with the ends sharpened and a gate, as well as a gate sentry. Well, rather Celann was at the gate, and after a moment waved them through willingly enough. There were a few more people walking around inside the gates as well, and Auriel smiled faintly at the fact that most of them were women. Good.

Stepping into the fort, she felt the change in the air sharply; Isran had done _something_, and his paranoia was showing. Of course, the fact that the three gates had moved to block them from going further into the fort help with that hypothesis. Him staring down from the second level didn't much help. Sarina huffed irritably up at him; having traveled with the pair across Skyrim. Gunmar had waited for them in the main hall, instead of venturing deeper into the fort itself.

"All right Isran," Gunmar sighed, pushing off the wall. "What's this about?"

"Hold it right there," Isran demanded as they stepped into the middle of the room.

"What're you doing?" Sarine demanded.

"Making sure you're not vampires," Isran said coldly. "Can't be too careful."

Auriel just rolled her eyes impatiently, and folded her arms across her chest. Farkas snorted, and shook his head a little. Light wafted up briefly from the center of the room where they stood, then faded.

"So, welcome to Fort Dawngaurd," Isran said. "I'm sure you've heard a bit about what we're up against. Powerful vampires, unlike anything we've seen before. And they have an Elder Scroll. If anyone is going to stand in their way, it's going to be us."

"This is all well and good," Sarine sighed, "but do we actually know anything about what they're doing? What do we do now?"

"We'll get to that," Isran snorted. "For now, get acquainted with the space. Sarine, you'll find room to start you tinkering on that crossbow design you've been working on. Gunmar, there's an area large enough for you to pen up some trolls, get them armored up and ready for use. In the meantime," and he frowned down at Auriel, "we're going to get to the bottom of why a vampire showed up here looking for _you_. Let's go have a little chat with it, shall we?"

Auriel's eyebrows rose fractionally. There was literally only one vampire she was on speaking terms with, so that begged the question of why _was_ Serana here? Isran lowered the gates, and Auriel made her way up the stairs.

To her irritation, he'd put Serana in the second floor small torture room, though she didn't look to have been harmed.

"This _vampire_ showed up while you were away," Isran growled, glaring at Serana. I'm guessing it's the one you found in Dimhollow Crypt. Says it's got something really important to say to you. So let's here it."

Serana ignored Isran entirely, something Auriel found quite amusing, even as she cocked her head a little in curiosity.

"You probably weren't expecting to see me again," Serana said.

"Honestly, no. What brings you?"

"I needed to talk to you," the vampire admitted. "It's important, so please just listen, before your friend here loses his patience. It's... well, it's about me," Serana sighed. "And the Elder Scroll that was buried with me."

"What about you?"

"The reason I was down there, and why I had the Elder Scroll. It all comes back to my father. I'm guessing you figured this out already, but my father's not exactly a good person. Even by vampire standards. He wasn't always like that though. There was... a turn. He stumbled upon this obscure prophecy, and just kind of lost himself in it."

"A prophecy?" Auriel raised an eyebrow slightly.

"It's pointless and vague, like all prophecies," Serana snorted. "The part he latched onto was that vampires would no longer have to fear the sun. That's what he's after. He wants to control the sun, have vampires control the world. Anyway, my mother and I didn't feel like inviting a war with all of Tamriel, so we tried to stop him. _That's_ why I was sealed away with the scroll."

"Interesting information," Auriel nodded a little. "The trick will be convincing the others that you're telling the truth."

"Well, let's do that then, Serana smiled a little slyly. "I'm nothing if not persuasive."

Auriel snorted a little in amusement, then turned to Isran. His glare said it all, and she sighed in exasperation.

"No, Isran, you can't kill her, get over it," she said flatly. "We're going to need her help."

"Why?!" he demanded. "Because of the story of some prophecy? About the vampire trying to put the sun out? Do you actually _believe_ any of that?"

"She risked her life to come to a fort of _vampire hunters_, Isran," Auriel replied acidically. "Why else would she come, if not for sincerity's sake?"

"Who knows," he snapped back. "Maybe it has a death wish, maybe it's _insane_, I don't really care!"

Auriel looked at him. Pulled off her gauntlet and passed it to Farkas. Smiled pleasantly, then reached out and slapped Isran hard, upside the head. He staggered back in surprise and anger, catching himself on the table, then swore at her. The redhead just crossed her arms over her chest and waited coolly.

"You fail to see the opportunity because of your blind hatred for vampires," She said icily. "Serana has _inside_ information about what may happen, and she is _offering_ to help us. She has not been blackmailed, extorted, or threatened, and she _has_ the Elder Scroll with her. Were I you, I would be reassessing the situation. _Thoroughly_."

"Fine, it can stay," he spat. "But if it lays a finger on anyone here, _you're_ the one I'm holding responsible." Then he glared at Serana. "You hear me? Don't feel like a guest, because you're _not_. You're a resource, an asset. And don't make me regret this outburst of tolerance and generosity. If you do, your friend here will pay for it."

Farkas growled at the threat, but Auriel waved her hand lightly, then retrieved her gauntlet from him.

"Thank you for your _kindness_," Serana said sourly. "I'll remember it the next time I'm feeling hungry."

Isran just scowled at the three of them.

"Speaking of the Elder scroll," Serana turned back to Auriel. "It probably has something that can help us stop my father, but... well, neither of us can read it."

"Which means we need a Moth Priest from Cyrodiil," Auriel sighed a little.

"Some Imperial scholar arrived in Skyrim not that long ago," Isran growled. "I was staking out the road when I saw him pass by. Maybe that's your Moth Priest."

"Do you know where he might be staying?" Serana asked. Auriel gave her points for the polite tone, but Isran wasn't terribly impressed.

"No," he drawled. "And I'm not going to waste men looking. We're fighting a war against your kind, and I intend to win it. You want to find him, try talking to innkeepers or carriage drives in the big cities. But I'm done helping."

He stalked off, and Auriel just shook her head at his back.

"So, how're you going to do it?" Serana asked,

"Well, the Moth Priest has to be here for a reason," Auriel said slowly. "I can go up to Winterhold and see if Tolfdir might know anything, or Urag. Mages in the College. Do you want to come along, or stay here?"

"...I want to come with, but I don't know if I can trust your friend."

Auriel snorted and smirked.

"Isran's not my friend, in case you hadn't noticed."

"No, I mean... him."

And she gestured to Farkas. Auriel blinked in surprise, then looked up at her husband. He blinked back in surprise, and Auriel frowned thoughtfully.

"I suppose nothing I say will change your mind?" She asked.

"No," Serana shook her head. "I'm going out on a limb enough as it is with you and this whole Dawnguard. Sorry."

The redhead sighed a little, and turned to her husband.

"It's okay, Auri," he smiled a little down at her before she could even open her mouth. "I'll head back to Whiterun. Come find me when you need me."

It was nice that he understood, without her having to say a single word; she didn't _want_ to leave Serana here, not with Isran in a foul mood. She leaned up and gave him a soft kiss, which he gently returned.

"Travel safe, Far," she murmured, resting her head briefly against his shoulder.

"Yes, love."


	34. Thirty-three:Elder Scrolls & Moth Priest

Thirty-three:

Elder Scrolls and Moth Priests

"I'm surprised you were willing to ask your man to go home so I'd be comfortable in joining you," Serana admitted. "You're kind of a hard person to read."

"Well, given that the alternative is you staying there, where Isran and the other less-sympathetic vampire hunters are at?" Auriel shrugged. "It's fine. I've adventured without Farkas before, and I can do it again, especially since you're hardly a slouch in a fight yourself."

"Huh. Pretty sensible of you."

Not that she didn't miss him, of course. While she wasn't dependent on her husband, his simplicity offered a balm to a mind that rarely stilled unless it was in sleep. He saw the shades of gray that she worked in, and gave her a bit of black and white when she was a little too lost.

"So who're we going to ask up at the college?" Serana asked.

"Urag. He's the librarian, and if he doesn't know where we could find a Moth Priest in Skyrim, probably no one does."

"You're sure?"

"Mmhm. C'mon. It's a long ride to Winterhold."

It took a good two and half weeks, actually, and the two women found that they got on rather well. Serana told her how she had become a vampire, but when Auriel had cautiously broached the subject of a cure, it had been rejected. And they lamented equally their lack of knowledge about the Elder Scrolls.

Auriel also took the time to bring Serana up to speed on the various events that had shaped Skyrim over the past year, though she couldn't tell Serana much about the history she'd missed. She covered the war, named the holds and the Jarls, and specified which factions she herself was part of. Serana was surprised to find out just how much influence Auriel actually wielded, and Auriel couldn't help but be amused; it was a bit astounding, all the things she'd done in a year. Well, closer to two now, as Solstheim and her recovery had taken a good chunk of time.

Still, objectively, it was impressive. The fact that she'd become so entrenched in Skyrim still surprised her at times.

The College wasn't bustling, nor was the Arcanaeum, but then, it was rare that they were these days. Still, the school lived on, and Auriel was greeted warmly by the few she passed.

"You're really popular, huh?"

"Well, I'm their Arch-Mage, didn't I say? It has its benefits."

Serana chuckled a little at the flippancy of Auriel's tone.

Urag was, as always, seated behind his desk when they reached the library.

"Arch-Mage," he nodded a little.

"Urag. Quick question. Would you happen to know where we might find a Moth Priest in Skyrim?"

He blinked at her for a minute.

"A Moth Priest?" What in Oblivion do you need a Moth priest for?" he demanded.

"...better if you don't know at the moment, Urag. Do you?"

"The _obvious_ answer is to go to the Imperial City. The Moth Priests make their home in White-Gold Tower," he snorted.

"Perhaps, but there's rumors that there is one up here. I'd hoped you might know about it," Auriel replied.

"...well, yeah. He's looking for Elder Scrolls. You missed him by a couple of days; stopped in to do some research, and then headed off to Dragon Bridge. Good luck catching up to him."

Auriel smiled faintly.

"My thanks, Urag. Oh, and here are the books I asked you to send down to Whiterun. The Companions no longer have need of them."

"Yeah, I'd heard that old White-Mane got sent off to Sovngarde. Did they help?"

"Mmhm. They did indeed."

"Good."

And Urag turned away with his arms full of books to go and replace them on the shelves. Auriel chuckled a little and shook her head.

"Not very social, is he?" Serana asked.

"He takes this job very seriously, and that's a good thing," Auriel replied as they made their way back down the stairs. "Most of these books wouldn't be here if he didn't. Though this is turning into a definite goose-chase, us haring all over Skyrim to find this priest. Let's hope we find him first. It doesn't sound as though he's being terribly subtle."

Serana nodded, and once more, they headed out; fortunately, Auriel had thought to trade the cart up for horses when they reached Whiterun on their way through. While riding was a little slower than a carriage, it was much faster than walking.

When they reached Dragon Bridge, they first scoured the town, but there was no sign of the priest. After a few moments of debate, they agreed that asking a guard might be more fruitful. Getting _ambushed_ by vampires, had not been part of the plan, but neither woman was very surprised, and the town itself was full of capable help in the form of the Stormcloak soldiers that protected it.

"Well, _this_ day is turning out wonderful," one of the muttered as they finished off the vampires. "First that old man and those Imperial guards show up, and now this lot?"

"What old man?" Auriel asked.

"Ah, just some old man and his guards," the soldier shrugged. "Went across that bridge not too long ago. You can probably catch them, if you're looking for them."

"Great, thanks. Ser, let's go."

Serana nodded, and they hurried over the bridge. The didn't find a priest, but an overturned wagon and dead guards were hard to miss. Auriel cursed softly, and they started going through the bodies, looking for anything that might indicate what had happened.

The sole vampire body held a folded up note that gave them their next direction, and Auriel sighed in irritation.

"Your father's people are a real pain, you know?"

"Well... he wants the scroll, and someone to read it," Serana sighed. "I suppose we should have expected this really. If Isran found out, then there was no way my father, with his extensive network, wouldn't catch on too."

"Let's hope we reach the priest before they kill him," Auriel muttered. "That would just end _well._"

"This place mentioned can't be too far," Serana said. "The faster we move, the better, yeah?"

"Right."

Forebears Holdout wasn't far at all, though it did take some careful trail reading. Or acting like she was trail-reading, since Auriel had picked up the scent of the priest at the wagon, and was using that to track him. The occasional splatter of blood didn't hurt either, though it did indicate that the priest may well have been wounded in the initial skirmish.

Like the cave Serana had been held in, the architecture was ancient, and yet still in good repair. It was patrolled by the odd dogs Serana had called Death Hounds, as well as other vampires, and in the far back, there was signs of a raised barrier. Auriel hoped that the priest was defending himself inside that barrier, and not dying.

The gargoyle statues were unnerving, but didn't _look_ like they were inclined to come to life, so Auriel tried to ignore them as they picked off dogs and vampires in the way. The one who'd capture the priest was indeed trying to break his will inside the barrier, but the priest himself had a goodly amount of mental fortitude, and Auriel's arrow cut the vampire off mid-sentence.

It was _nice_ when things worked out the way she wanted them to, really. She grabbed the waystone from the vampire's dead body, and hurried up the stairs to cut the power to the barrier. Of course, that was when things started going _wrong_, again. The priest was enthralled, and it took the concentrated effort of both women—both women trying to _not_ kill him, at that—to subdue him and bring him back to himself.

"I yield, I yield!" he pleaded, twisting to free himself from their combined pin. "That... that wasn't mean you were fighting! I could see through my eyes, but I could not control my actions."

Slowly, cautiously, they let him up. He grimaced and brushed himself off before giving them both an apologetic look.

"Thank you for breaking that foul vampire's hold on me," he said, bowing slightly.

"I am Auriel. This is Serana. Are you all right?"

"I'm quite all right, thanks to you. Dexion Evicus is my name. I'm a Moth Priest of the White Gold Tower. These vampires claimed they had something in store for me, though they wouldn't say what. Probably hoping to ransom me, the fools," he shook his head slightly.

"Yes, not exactly," Auriel sighed a little. "They wanted to have you read an Elder Scroll. That's... something that we need from you as well. We, being the Dawnguard... as well as the two of us."

"You have an Elder Scroll?" he breathed. "Remarkable... I recall that the Dawnguard was an ancient order of vampire hunters. I would be more than happy to assist you with your scroll. Just tell me where I need to go."

"Fort Dawnguard is near Stendarr's beacon, but I have a better idea," Auriel smiled faintly. "We'll escort you, to prevent any more vampire issues."

"That does sound like a good idea," he admitted with a chuckle. "Very well, lead on."

They did indeed have to fight off more vampires who were after the priest, but there were no major injuries on their side, and very fatal ones of the vampires. Other than being a little worse of wear, they made it to the fort in one piece.

Isran met them in the main room, and while he didn't look terribly happy to see them, he did raise an eyebrow in surprise at their state.

"I'm impressed you could find a Moth Priest so quickly," he said a little grudgingly.

"You say it like it was easy," Auriel rolled her eyes. "We're going to rest up a bit, and clean up, then we'll do the reading, all right?"

Dexion nodded; Isran took him about the fort, and showed him everything while the two women had quick baths, and joined them again when they were settled into eating. Well, _Auriel_ was eating. Serana was just watching.

"I have colleagues back home that would love to study this place in detail," Dexion said. "It's fascinating, if not the most hospitable."

Auriel chuckled a little.

"I will admit that it's an interesting sort of place," she nodded a little. "Isran makes it a bit difficult, however. He is very... driven. It causes a number of conflicts."

Serana snickered a little and Dexion nodded sympathetically.

"Some people are like that. They are indeed very difficult to get along with. So, when shall I read the scroll?"

"Eat first. Then scroll."

He chuckled a little himself, and obligingly had something to eat. When they were done, they moved into the center chamber, where the light was the best.

"Ready?" Auriel asked.

"Oh, most certainly," he nodded eagerly. "Let's find out what secrets the scroll can tell!"

Serana handed him the scroll, and moved out of the way. Auriel gave him space as well.

"Now, if everyone will please be quiet; I must concentrate..."

Slowly he unrolled the scroll

"I see... a vision before me," he murmured. "An image of a great bow. I know this weapon! It is Auriel's Bow!"

Serana looked at her askance, and Auriel shook her head a little. Auri-El's Bow was probably more accurate.

"Now a voice whispers," Dexion continued. "It says 'Among the night's children, a dread lord will rise. In an age of strife, when dragons return to the realm of men, darkness will mingle with light and the night and day will be as one.' The voice fades, and the words begin to shimmer and distort... but wait, there is more here! The secret of the bow's power is written elsewhere. I think there is more to the prophecy, recorded in other scrolls."

Auriel stifled a groan; more scrolls. Of course. It couldn't be simple, could it?

"Yes, I see them now," he nodded absently. "One contains the ancient secrets of the dragons and the other speaks of the potency of ancient blood. My vision darkens... I see no more. To know the complete prophecy, we must have the other two scrolls."

He rolled the scroll back up, and Auriel quickly moved to support him as he staggered.

"I think... I must rest now," he said weakly. "The reading has made me weary..."

Isran stepped forward, and Auriel passed him over.

"Come on old man," the Redguard nodded a little. "We'll put you to bed."

As Isran led the priest off, Auriel frowned thoughtfully. Serana tugged on her sleeve lightly.

"Do you have a moment to talk?" she murmured.

"...yes?" Auriel blinked at her a little. "What's wrong?"

"Not... wrong, really, but more in regards to those two other scrolls. I think I know where we can start looking."

"Oh? Where?"

"Well, we'll need to find my mother, Valerica. She'll definitely know where it is, and if we're lucky, she has it herself."

Auriel blinked a little, then cocked her head slightly.

"Didn't you say you had no idea where she was?" the redhead asked.

"The last time that I saw her, she said she'd go somewhere safe. Somewhere that my father would never search," Serana frowned a little. "Other than that, she wouldn't tell me anything. But the way she said it... 'someplace he would never search.' It was cryptic, and yet she called attention to it."

"It doesn't really seem like either parent was big on trusting," Auriel said a little dryly.

"That's always a possibility," Serana sighed a little. "She was almost as obsessed as my father by the time she shut me in. But I can't worry about that now. We need the scroll, and she's our only lead. Besides, I can't imagine a single place my father would avoid looking. And he's had all this _time_, too. Ideas?"

"If it were me, I'd wait for him to finish searching the castle, and turn his attention outwards before coming back in," Auriel shrugged a little. "Generally when someone's finished searching a place, they don't come back to it."

"...that almost makes sense," Serana blinked a little. "There's a courtyard in the castle. I used to help her tend a garden there. All of the ingredients for our potions came from there. She used to say my father couldn't stand the place. Too... peaceful. I don't think we'll trip over her there, but it could be worth a look."

"The only problem being the fact that we're not exactly going to be allowed in through the front door," Auriel pointed out.

"True, but I know a way we can get into the courtyard without arousing suspicion. There's an unused inlet on the northern side of the island that was used by the previous owner to bring supplies into the castle. An old escape tunnel from the castle exits there. It could be our way in."

"Then we should get moving," Auriel said firmly. "The less time we waste, the better."

"Agreed."

They did delay a little bit in Whiterun, amusingly at Serana's suggestion. It was nice to see Farkas, if only for a little bit, and fill him in on what was happening, before they went farther west and took the boat at the jetty back to the castle.

The island itself was actually mostly deserted; they didn't really run into anything while working around it.

"The castle looks so big from down here," Serana murmured. "I mean, it is big, but it looks... bigger."

Auriel just nodded. The castle was an imperious, demanding weight over their heads. It made her glad there were no sentries to pour things like boiling oil on them.

Other than a half-sunken boat blocking the way in, the inlet seemed in decent repair. The guards were skeletons, who were sturdier than the usual fare, but enough hits shattered them to pieces. Once inside, Serana moved up a little, though she didn't quite take the lead. The first room held only a skeever, harmless, and they pushed the doors open quietly to the next.

"The old water system," Serana murmured. "On some days this would smell just... be glad you weren't here then."

Auriel grimaced a little; maybe Serana's nose was used to it, but the entire place reeked of blood, vampire dust, pain, and fear. It was unpleasant, to say the least. The death hounds, and a lesser vampire were their first hurdles, as they passed through the undercroft, followed up be skeletons again.

"Take a left up here," Serana said as they reached a bridge. "This is one of those weird double-barred security measures that my father put in when he got more paranoid..."

The pathway led into a room full of bones, and Auriel covered her nose with a grimace; some of them were fresh, and stank of death, pain, fear, and everything else unpleasant a person could think of. It was hard to reconcile the idea of Serana doing anything like that... vampire or no, she seemed to have more than a small bit of honor to her.

Naturally, it also led to a large frostbite spider which guarded the switch that lowered the other half of the bridge. Auriel let Serana take care of it, as the vampire seemed to be getting more and more agitated the further they went in. She supposed she couldn't blame her... who would want to come back to a place like this?

"This way should lead out to the courtyard," Serana said when the paused for breath at the foot of some stairs. "Just head for the door."

The courtyard itself was entirely deserted. And also fairly decimated.

"Oh no," Serana breathed. "What happened to this place? Everything's been torn down. The whole place looks... well, dead. It like we're the first to set foot here in centuries."

She moved to one side of the courtyard, climbing stairs, then sighed a little and shook her head.

"This used to lead into the great hall," she said. "It looks like my father had it sealed up. I used to walk through here after evening meals... it was beautiful once."

She moved over to the other sighed, to a fenced in area that looked as though it had once been well tended. Auriel followed, and leaned against the fence carefully; it had plenty of sharp spikes to jab her with.

"This was my mother's garden... It... do you know how beautiful something can be when it's tended by a master for hundreds of years? She would've hated to see it like this..."

Serana turned away from the garden, then stopped short and stared at the large statue in the middle of the garden. Auriel waited patiently as the vampire circled it.

"Something's wrong with the moondial," Serana said after a moment. "Some of the crests are missing, and the dial is askew. I didn't even know the crests _could_ be removed... Maybe my mother's trying to tell us something?"

"Let's find the missing crests," Auriel suggested. "Put them back where they belong."

"...yeah, okay."

They found three, and put then back where they belonged. The dial twisted and then the stone sank down, revealed stairs, and a door.

"...very clever mother," Serana murmured, a smile on her face. "Very clever. I've never been in these tunnels before, but I'd bet they run right under the courtyard and into the tower ruins. At the least, we're getting closer. Come on."

The tunnels they found smelled less vile than the ones they'd come from, to Auriel's silent relief. If anything, they smelled of mold, and old plants, the dust of old bones and damp water.

"I've never even _seen_ this part of the castle before," Serana admitted uneasily. "Be careful. I don't know what might be around."

The moved through a kitchen stained with dried blood, into a wrecked dining area that lit up as soon as Serana stepped through the door. Skeletons in chairs awoke from their long slumber, and attacked, turning into shattered bones by the end. A very unpleasant gargoyle was their next opponent; they tangled him up in a spiky bone chime, and moved on.

Braziers constantly being lit wreaked havoc on Auriel's ability to see; it kept going from a darkness she was adjusting to, to a bright light that nearly blinded her.

"If this is your mother's idea of humor, I am not pleased," she grumbled, wiping her eyes irritably.

"...sorry?"

"Hmph."  
More skeletons and gargoyles blocked the way; Auriel almost wanted to learn how to make the gargoyles. They were powerful, and difficult to kill. A few of them on her houses, trained to recognize Thalmor robes, would be worth the effort, perhaps...

They found their way to a second dining hall, on less fiercely guarded, but still not their destination. Auriel sat for a bit, trying to catch her breath as Serana tore through the skeletons.

"You know," Serana said, "you being mortal is kind of slowing us down."

"I'll keep my mortality, thanks," Auriel snorted, taking a drink of water. "Be patient. We'll get there."

It almost became a litany as they carefully moved through the halls. Skeletons and gargoyles, skeletons and gargoyles. The gargoyles tended to hit harder, but they weren't fast enough to catch either woman. A shortcut led them over a skeleton infested great hall as opposed to through it, and to a room filled with finished and half-completed gargoyles. The completed ones took exception to their presence, and the closed quarters actually made it easier for the gargoyles than the two women. Then they were nothing more than rubble, Serana wiped her forehead with a grimace.

"I don't think we've reached the top yet," she muttered. "I'd bet there's some kind of secret passage around here."

"Mmhm... The air's still flowing through. It's not _fresh_, but it's moving," Auriel nodded absently.

"Where?" The vampire blinked a little, surprised.

"Over by the fireplace again, I'd wager," Auriel gestured lightly. "Like the first one we came through."

Serana moved over and started inspecting the fireplace. Experimentally, she turned a handle holder, then jumped back as the fireplace it was set next to slid smoothly upwards.

"Leave it to my mother," she shook her head a little. "Always smarter than I gave her credit for..."

They went up a handful of stairs, and came out into a large, empty room that had clearly been for summoning or spell casting of some kind. The interlocking, lowering circles in the middle of the room made no mistaking that.

"Look at this place," Serana breathed. "This _has_ to be it. I knew she was deep into necromancy; I mean, she taught me everything I know. But I had no idea she had a setup like this... Look at all this. She must have spent _years_ collecting these components... And what's that thing?" she frowned down at the circles. "I'm not sure... but they're obviously something. Here, let's look around. There must be something that tells us where she's gone."

"Anything specific?"

"My mother was _meticulous_ about her research," Serana nodded. "If we can find her notes, there might be something in there."

They searched the room from top to bottom, saving the most obvious place for last. There, on the bookshelves, was an innocent looking journal, bound in leather. Auriel flipped it open curiously, and read a few pages, before she handed it to Serana.

"I think this is it, but what on earth is a Soul Cairn?"

"I only know what she told me," Serana admitted.

"Well, that's more than I know, so let's hear it," Auriel said dryly.  
"She had a theory about soul gems. The souls inside don't vanish when they're used... they end up in the Soul Cairn."

"...why would that matter?"

"The Soul Cairn is home to some very powerful beings. Necromancers send them souls, and get their own powers in return. My mother spent a lot of time trying to contact them directly. To get into the Soul Cairn itself."

Auriel frowned thoughtfully.

"Well, I suppose if she made it, we can too. We just... need the right ingredients."

"The circle in the room must be some type of portal," Serana frowned thoughtfully. "If I'm reading this right, there should be a formula here that can get us into the Soul Cairn."

"Then let's find these ingredients and get moving."

"Oh... damnit," Serana sighed in disgust. "We're going to need a sample of her blood. Which... well, if we could get that, we wouldn't need to do this in the first place."

Auriel raised an eyebrow slightly, a faintly wry smile on her face.

"What?" Serana asked.

"You're her daughter."

"...Huh. Not bad. Let's hope that's good enough. Mistakes with these kinds of portals can be... gruesome. Let's get started."

The found the ingredients, and poured them into the silver vessel at the top of the stairs. Then Auriel looked at Serana.

"Are you ready to go? I'm not exactly sure what this thing is going to do when I add my blood..." The vampire woman warned.

"...what will you _do_ when you find your mother?" Auriel asked.

"I've been asking myself the same thing since we came back to the castle," Serana admitted. "She was so _sure_ about what we did to my father, I couldn't help but go along with her. I never thought of the cost..."

"It makes one wonder what she was thinking," Auriel cocked her head a little. "Was it for you, or for herself?"

"She always seemed happy before we heard of the prophecy. Then she changed. They both did," Serana sighed. "I suppose we won't know until we find her..."

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I just... didn't expect you to care about what I thought of her," Serana's smile was rueful. "Thanks for that... Shall we get going?"  
"Yes."

Serana nipped sharply at her own wrist, then held the bleeding arm above the bowl. The room rumbled sharply, and a blueish-purple light flared up from the circle below. The circled twisted, and Serana stepped back in surprise.

"By the blood of my ancestors," she whispered as the stone from the circle shredded to form a series of stairs. "She actually did it! Created a portal into the Soul Cairn! Incredible..."

Auriel moved gingerly down the stairs, then swore and jumped back as lightning flickered over her skin.

"Are you all right?" Serana asked. "That looked painful."

"You would not be far wrong," the redhead winced, rubbing one stinging ear. "What was that about?"

"Now that I think about it, I... should have expected that," Serana's voice was sheepish. "Sorry. It's hard to describe. The Soul Cairn is... hungry, for lack of a better word. It's trying to take your life essence as payment."

"In other words, if I'm not dead, it won't let me in," Auriel said flatly.

"...well, there are ways around it, but... you might not like them."

"Tell me anyways."

"Vampires aren't counted among the living. I could probably go through there without a problem," Serana began.

"No," Auriel said firmly. "I have no interest in becoming a vampire, _thank_ you."

"Well, then your other option is to let me partially soul trap you, and we offer that gem up to the Ideal Masters. It might be enough to satisfy them. It would make you a bit weaker once we're inside the Soul Cairn, but we might be able to fix that once we're inside." Serana hesitated, then sighed a little. "Maybe."

Auriel just sighed.

"All right. Do it."

"You're sure?"

"Given the options, I think I'd prefer it done this way," Auriel grimaced a little. "And I'm not letting you go in there alone."

"...I hope you're serious about this. It's going to take some trust."

"You've shown that you're interested in helping, you haven't attacked me, or anyone else since I've seen you, and you gave me an alternative to vampirism," Auriel's smile was dry. "Stop worrying, and do it."

"...I'll make this as painless as possible. Just hold still."

She tried, but it still hurt. Auriel hissed, and dropped briefly to a knee before staggering back upright and shaking her head sharply to clear it.

"You all right?" Serana asked a little anxiously.

"Yes... I feel fine. Did it work?"

"I think so... Come on, my mother must be waiting on the other side of that thing..."

This time Serana led the way, and Auriel followed cautiously. And together, they stepped into the Soul Cairn.


	35. Thirty-four: Soul Cairn

Thirty-four:  
Soul Cairn

Auriel wasn't entirely sure _what_ to expect when it came to entering the Soul Cairn, so she wasn't too shocked by what she saw. The sky was a mix of blue and purple, with smatterings of black clouds here and there. A faint mist seemed to cover the land, and the ground reminded her of the ashy soil of Solstheim. Great block and silver monoliths rose in the distance, and every now and again, the souls of people could be seen wandering around. There were wisp-like creatures as well, though they were most assuredly harmless. Auriel stifled a swear as one of them simply passed right on through her.

In short, it was a very unnerving place to be.

There were enemies, as always; never once had Auriel found a place where there _wasn't_ something to fight. Black skeletons that turned into ash piles, mostly.

"...so far, this place is about what I imagined," Serana muttered. "Not a place we should spend a lot of time in."

"Well, until we find your mother, I don't see that we have a great deal of choice," Auriel murmured. "So let's keep going and see what we find."

Moving farther in, they found walls, much like the kind that surrounded a city. And, in fact, that's what the place resembled once they walked through the place where a gate would normally be. Though some of the 'buildings' certainly didn't look much like they touched the ground in any discernible way. A more directly blue-white light lit of the sky at the far end, and that was the direction they ended up going in.

As they got closer, something resembling lightning flashed down from the unnerving sky, though it landed nowhere near them. The problem was, where it landed tended to become saturated with enemies. Mostly, they were black skeletons; annoying, but manageable. Somehow.

The castle, when they finally reached it, was surrounded by a barrier of some type. But just inside the barrier was a woman.

"Mother?" Serana called. "Mother!"

"Maker... it can't be," the older woman breathed. "Serana?!"

Valerica was an older version of the vampire that Auriel had come to know, but there was a coldness to her that Serana lacked. A trained sort of haughty attitude. She wore her dark hair pinned back in a strict bun, and her eyes were not the same orange-gold. They were red, no doubt from hunger. And she did _not_ look pleased to see them.

"Is it really you?" Serana, on the other hand, was smiling. "I can't believe it! How do we get inside? We have to talk."

"Serana? What are you _doing_ here? Valerica asked. "Where's your father?"

"He doesn't know we're here," the lack of enthusiastic greeting had hurt, and Auriel noticed that Serana quickly hid that. "I don't have time to explain."

"I must have failed," Valerica sighed. "Harkon's found a way to decipher the prophecy, hasn't he?"

"No, you've got it all wrong!" Serana protested. "We're here to _stop_ him. To make everything right."

It was then that Valerica noticed Auriel, and her frowned turned even more severe.

"You brought a _stranger_ here?"the older vampire demanded. "Have you lost your mind?"

"No, you don't-"

"You," And Valerica beckoned imperiously. "I would speak with you."

Auriel shrugged.

"Speak then."

"So how has it come to pass that a vampire hunter is in the company of my daughter? It pains me to think that you traveled under the guise of her protector in an effort to hunt me down."

Auriel snorted.

"Don't flatter yourself, woman," she said dryly. "I'm not interested in you. Believe it or not, I'm _genuinely_ here to help her."

"Coming from someone who murders vampires as a trade, I find it hard to believe your intentions are noble," Valerica said haughtily. "Serana has sacrificed everything to keep Harkon from completing the prophecy. I would've expected her to explain that to you."

"Firstly, my 'trade' as you so call it, is not actually hunting vampires," Auriel said, matching Valerica's tone with icy dignity. "I am the Arch-Mage, adviser to a Jarl, Guild Master of the Thieves Guild, a bard, a Companion, oh, and a _Dragonborn_. I am here as her friend, and because we need your Elder Scroll."

"You think I'd have the audacity to place my own daughter in that tomb for the protection of her Elder Scroll alone?"

"Well, so far, neither you, nor Harkon, have seemed to be stellar parents," Auriel retorted. "So it would _hardly_ surprise me."

"The scrolls are merely a means to an end," Valerica sighed. "The key to the Tyranny of the Sun is Serana herself."

Auriel's eyebrows went up, and she glanced over at the younger vampire, who seemed equally startled by the revelation.

"When I fled Castle Vokihar, I fled with _two_ Elder Scrolls," the older vampire explained, as she started to pace behind the barrier. "The scroll you found with Serana speaks of Auriel, and his arcane weapon, Auriel's Bow. The second scroll declares that 'the Blood of Coldharbour's daughter will blind the eye of the Dragon.'"

"...And Serana, being a made vampire by Molag-Bal, is a daughter of Coldharbour," Auriel frowned.

"You know more than I expected," Valerica said, eyebrows raising in surprise.

"I'm no immortal, but I'm over three hundred," Auriel snorted. "Give me _some_ credit."

She was thoughtfully quiet for a few minutes, then scowled slightly.

"Harkon will kill her if he catches her with the scrolls he needs."

"Now you see why I hid her away to protect her, and why I kept the other Elder Scroll as far away from her as possible," Valerica nodded. "If Harkon obtained Auriel's Bow, and used Serana's blood to taint the weapon, then the Tyranny of the Sun would be complete. In his eyes, she'd be dying for the good of all vampires."

"Pleasant."

"So, how exactly do you plan on stopping him?" Valerica demanded lowly.

"Killing Harkon sounds like a step in the right direction, but we still need your scroll," Auriel sighed. "Auriel's Bow, untainted, could be useful in that endeavor."

"Hmph. You care nothing for Serana, or our plight. You're still a vampire hunter at heart, no matter what the blood you may have in you, and you're here because we're abominations and monsters in your minds."

"Look, I don't particularly _care_ if you believe me," Auriel snapped. "I'm with Serana, _Serana_ trusts me, and your opinion is essentially null and void!"

"...this stranger aligns herself with those that would hunt you down and slay you like an animal, yet I should entrust you to her?" Valerica demanded, finally turning back to her daughter.

"This 'stranger' has done more for me in the brief time I've known her than you've done in _centuries_!" Serana snapped.

"How _dare_ you! I gave up _everything_ I cared about to protect you from that _fanatic_ you call a father!"

"Yes, he's a fanatic," Serana sighed. "He's changed. But he's still my father. Why can't you understand how that makes me feel?!"

"Oh Serana," Valerica sighed. "If you'd only open your eyes... The moment your father discovers your role in the prophecy, that he needs your blood, you'd be in terrible danger."

Auriel blinked, and cocked her head a little. A full-blooded, female vampire, made by Molag Bal... She blinked again. _Valerica_ could have been used just as easily by Harkon. Was that part of the reason why she was here now, in the Soul Cairn?

"So to protect me, you decided to shut me away from everything I cared about?" Serana shot back. "You never asked _me_ if hiding me in that tomb was the best course of action, you just expected me to follow you blindly! Both of you were obsessed with your own paths. Your motivations might've been different, but in the end, I'm still just a pawn to you too!"

Auriel hesitated, then reached out and lightly rested a hand on Serana's shoulder. The vampire shuddered a little, then sighed.

"I want us to be a family again," she said softly. "But I don't know if we can ever have that. Maybe we don't deserve that kind of happiness. Maybe it isn't for us. But we have to stop him. Before he goes too far. And for that, we need the Elder Scroll."

"I'm sorry, Serana," Valerica said after a moment. "I didn't know... I didn't see. I've allowed my hatred of your father to estrange us for too long. Forgive me. If you want the Elder Scroll, it's yours."

"Do you have it with you?" Auriel asked.

Valerica frowned at her, still clearly not trusting, but Auriel ignored it; she didn't _care_ what Valerica thought. Hells, she didn't even buy the apology! It sounded a little like someone telling their child what they wanted to hear.

"You I still don't trust," the vampire woman sniffed. "But for Serana's sake, I'll help you. The scroll is secured here. It has been ever since I was imprisoned. Fortunately, you're on the outside, and can breach the barrier."

"How?"

"Locate the tallest of the rock spires surrounding the ruins," Valerica instructed. "At their basis, the energy is being drawn from unfortunate souls that have been exiled here. Destroy the Keepers that are tending them, and it _should_ bring the barrier down."

"All right. We'll be back soon."

"One more word of warning. There's a dragon that calls himself Durnehviir roaming the ruins. The Ideal Masters had proclaimed him protector of the Keepers, and he will no doubt intervene if you're perceived as a threat."

"...right. This should be interesting."

It was interesting, though decidedly not easy. The Keepers were well armored, and heavy hitters, and it took a lot to take each one down. Neither woman could be entirely sure how they managed it without getting killed, but somehow, they did.

"You managed to destroy all three Keepers," Valerica smiled a little as they crossed into the ruins. "Very impressive. Follow me, and I'll give you the scroll. And keep watch for Durnehviir."

Auriel nodded in understanding; the last thing they needed now was a pissed off dragon, though knowing their luck, it was precisely the thing they were bound to get. And naturally, she was right; as Valerica led them into the ruins, the dragon swooped in overhead, roaring his fury. It made Auriel revisit the wish to visit the Graybeards again, and have them teach her the actual language, without the power behind the words.

Despite Durnehviir's ability to summon the skeletal creatures of the Cairn, he was, ultimately, no match for the three women. Auriel approach, wondering if she would be able to take in his soul, but not expecting it. Sure enough, he flickered in flames blue and purple, then vanished from sight.

Valerica stared in surprise at Auriel, who paused briefly to count the arrows in her quiver.

"Forgive my astonishment," the elder vampire said after a moment. "I never thought I'd witness the death of that dragon. It appears the volumes written about him were mistaken."

Auriel just shrugged; she suspected that the dragon was not as dead as Valerica thought, but there was no point in disillusioning the woman.

"Of course, there's also the option that he may simply have been disrupted for a short period, and may well show up again. Let's not wait around to find out."

Valerica led them to a small alcove, where she unlocked a chest, and lifted out the scroll, which she then passed to Auriel.

"Now that you have this, it would be wise to be on your way," the elder vampire said. "If there's anything I can do before you depart, you must let me know."

"If you could help me get back the piece of my soul that we used as payment, I'd appreciate it," Auriel said dryly.

"Well, I think I can help with that. Your soul essence was trapped inside a gem. When you two entered, the gem was 'given' to the Ideal Masters as payment. You simply need to retrieve the gem. Once you do, your soul essence will be restored."

"...a clue to finding it might be nice."

"There's an offering table not terribly far from here. I'm willing to bet that the gem you're looking for is there. Anything else? Could be your last chance."

"You're staying here, then."

"I have no choice," She sighed. "As I told you before, I'm a daughter of Coldharbour. If I return to Tamriel, that increase Harkon's likelihood of bringing the Tyranny of the Sun to fruition."

"...Well, I certainly won't be returning, though Serana may, as she wishes."

"After what I've put Serana through, I would understand if she never wanted to see me again," Valerica sighed. "I'll leave that choice to her. Remember, Harkon is not to be trusted. No matter what he promises, he'll deceive you in order to get what he wants. And promise me you'll keep my daughter safe. She's the only thing of value I have left."

Auriel nodded lightly, and revised her initial opinion of Valerica. Maybe she truly _did_ regret what she'd done.

She'd almost expected Durnehviir to be there when they stepped out of the ruins, and she waved a hand lightly at Serana, who looked ready to start fighting all over again.

"If he wanted to try and kill us again, he wouldn't be waiting. I think he wants to talk."

"If you're sure," Serana muttered warily.

"Stay your weapons," he said as they drew closer "I would speak with you Qahnaarin".

"I see you're not dead," Auriel idly commented.

"Cursed, not dead," the dragon corrected. "Doomed to wander eternally in this form, trapped between laas and dinok; between life and death."

"And you're speaking to me because...?"

"I believe in civility among seasoned warriors. And I find your ear worthy of my words. My claws have rendered the flesh of innumerable foes, but never once have I been felled on the field of battle."

Auriel snorted a little; though he was not the first dragon with whom she'd spoken, he was somewhat more arrogant than the one she'd ridden in Apocrypha.

"I therefore honor-name you Qahnaarin, or Vanquisher, in your tongue."

"...I will not lie, you were a tough opponent."

"Your words to me great honor," the dragon sighed. "My desire to speak with you was born from the result of our battle, Qahnaarin. I merely wish to respectfully ask a favor of you."

Auriel cocked her head curiously.

"Ask."

"For countless years I've roamed the Soul Cairn, in unintended service for the Ideal masters," he said bitterly. "Before this, I rode the skies above Tamriel. I desire to return there."

"And you can't."

"I fear my time here has taken its toll on me. I share a bond with this dreaded place. If I ventured far from the Soul Cairn, my strength would begin to wane, until I was no more."

"And you think that I can help you?" Auriel cocked her head. "How?"

"I will place my name with you," he proclaimed, "and grant you the right to call my name from Tamriel. Do me this simple gift, and I will fight at your side as your Gra-Zeymahin, your Ally, and teach you my Thu'um."

"Done."

"Simply speak my name to the heavens, when you feel the time is right," he bowed a little.

Auriel bowed lightly back, and braced herself as the force of his name hit her. A dragon as an ally would be hard to turn down, especially when it came to fighting _other_ dragons. As they left, heading for the nearby alter so that Auriel could reclaim her soul, Serana gave her a worried look.

"You sure that was a good idea?" she asked.

"He didn't try to kill us, and he can come in handy. Why are _you_ worrying?"

"Well..."

Auriel chuckled a little, feeling more cheerful than she had in several weeks. A dragon as an ally... oh, this had potential indeed.


	36. Thirty-five: Dragon Scroll

Thirty-five:

Dragon Scroll

The relief in leaving the Soul Cairn behind was great enough to have both women finding a bench and sitting down for the better part of an hour.

"I wish she could have come with us," Serana sighed a little.

"Honestly?" Auriel glanced at her friend. "I'm thinking you possibly should have stayed, just to prevent Harkon from ever getting his hands on either of you."

"It wouldn't stop him, you know."

"No, it probably wouldn't, be he hasn't found your mother yet, and it took him _this_ long to even start tracking you. But," Auriel shrugged a little. "I am glad you returned with me. That place was worse than Apocrypha."

"...what do you think we should do now?"

"I think it's time to head back to the college and see what Urag might know. We don't _have_ one, but again, if he doesn't know where one might be, it's possible he can direct us to someone who does."

"Hm... good point. Ready?"

"As I will ever be. Let's go."

In truth, it was actually more relaxing once they got further away from the castle. True, Harkon could still catch up with them, but now they were in one of _Auriel's_ places of power, and it would take a very determined person to get across the bridge without the mages' welcome.

"Urag, this time we need to get more specific," Auriel said without preamble as she strode into the library. "I know we don't have one here, but have you heard anything about an Elder Scroll in Skyrim?"

"What are you _up_ to?" he asked warily. "This isn't something like what Ancano pulled, is it?"

"No, no. It's... complicated, but nothing like that."

"Well, I can get you all the writings he have on it, but who knows if they'll be of any use," he grumbled.

"Anything is better than nothing."

He sighed and got to his feet, and went to search the shelves. He only brought back two, and Auriel raised an eyebrow, shrugged, and started reading.

"...who in the world wrote Ruminations?" she asked after a moment, frowning. "I've read many a cryptic writing in my time, but this goes well into the lands of incomprehension."

"That would be Septimus Signus," Urag shook his head a little. "He's the world's master of the nature of Elder Scrolls, but... well... He's been gone for a long while. _Too_ long."

"Where did he go?"

"Somewhere up north, in the ice fields," Urag shrugged a little. "Said he found some old Dwemer artifact, but that was... well, _yeas_ ago. Haven't heard from him since."

"Do you know where specifically? Like on the map?"

Auriel pulled hers out, and Urag frowned at it.

"I think he said it was around here somewhere. Good luck finding him. Hope he's not dead."

"Yes, so do I. We are going to have a bit of trouble if he is," Auriel nodded, and handed the map to Serana. "Remind me to tell Tolfdir to up your salary. You've quite thoroughly earned this."

Urag grunted a little as they left.

"Ice fields?" Serana asked.

"We're going to need to borrow a boat," Auriel sighed. "Trust me, you do not want to swim in this water."

Eventually the ice flows got too thick to pole around, but by that point they'd found the small cave in which Septimus had undoubtedly holed up in. Auriel half expected a frozen body with maybe a journal or notes of some type, but no, the man was whole, and healthy if... not entirely mentally there.

"When the top level was built, not more could fit," he said, flicking a glance at them "It was and is the maximal apex!"

"...All yours," Serana said, holding up her hands.

"Thanks ever so much," Auriel sighed. "Septimus? I need you to tell me about the Elder Scrolls."

"Elder Scrolls," he said, delighted. "Indeed! The Empire. They absconded with them! Or so they think. The ones they saw. "He scoffed. "The ones they _thought_ they saw!"

"Oh dear..."

"I know of one," his voice dropped to a whisper. "Forgotten. Sequestered! But I cannot go to it, not poor Septimus. For I... I have arisen beyond it's grasp."

Auriel grimaced; the man had clearly been touched by madness, alone for so long, with only this great Dwemer construction for company.

"If you tell me, I can go get it for you," she offered.

"Here," he said.

"...in this room?"

"Well, here as in this plane. Mundus. Tamriel. Nearby, relatively speaking," he giggled. "On the cosmological scale, well, it's all nearby."

"Spetimus, focus," she sighed. "Can you, or can you not help me get it?"

"One block lifts another," he grinned. "Septimus will give you what you want, but you must bring him something in return!"

"All right," Auriel said warily. "What do you want?"

"You see this masterwork of the Dwemer," he gestured to the cube, frozen solid in the ground. "Inside is their greatest knowings. Septimus is clever among men, but he is but an idiot child compared to the dullest of Dwemer. Lucky then they left behind their own way of reading the Elder Scrolls. In the depths of Blackreach, one yet lies. Have you heard of Blackreach?"

Auriel made an effort to pay attention, but it was a little difficult when it came to dealing with those touched by Sheogorath's hand. Then again, she also remembered dealing with the Mad God himself, and that hadn't been at _all_ fun.

"Tell me about Blackreach," she said after a moment.

"Under deep. Below the dark. Hidden keep. Tower Mzark. Alftand. Point of entry, of the topping. Delve to it's limits, and Blackreach lies just beyond. But not all can enter there," he warned. "Only Septimus knows the key to jump below the deathly rock."

"Will you give me this key?"

"Two things I have for you," he nodded. "Two shapes. One edged. One round. The round one for turning. Dwemer music is subtle and soft, and needed to open their cleverest gates. The edged lexicon for inscribing. To us, a hunk of metal, to the Dwemer, a _library_ of knowings! But... empty. Find Mzark and the sky dome! The machinations there will read the scroll and lay the lore upon the cube." And he smiled. "Trust Spetimus! He knows you can know."

Auriel took the two objects Septimus handed to her, then grabbed Serana by the back of her hood.

"Let's go. Before his madness makes me crazy too."

Serana didn't laugh, and followed Auriel back up to the surface, where the redhead promptly shook her head repeatedly in an effort to clear it.

"What was wrong with him?" The vampire asked.

"He's been alone here for years, probably studying that ridiculous box for all of them," Auriel sighed. "Spend enough time by yourself, and you become touched by Sheogorath. It's... not terribly pleasant."

"I guess not. Where's... what's the place he mentioned... Mzark?"

"I don't know of a Mzark, but I _do_ know where Alftand is. It's actually not that far from here, and we should be able to reach it in a couple of hours, if we're lucky."

It actually took them closer to three, mostly because the weather decided it wanted to turn and become a nasty snowstorm. Of course, being set upon by a trio of vampires didn't _help_, and Auriel hissed a few choice curses. Somehow, Harkon was keeping up with them. But he wasn't trying to take anything yet, just letting them know he was still _there_.

It wasn't a pleasant feeling.

Alftand was deserted at first; or at least the base camp they discovered was. A journal revealed that there had been a group of people at one point, not connected to the College, and further perusal—mostly in hopes of escaping the bitter wind and pelting snow—revealed a somewhat rickety path that lead into a part of the mountain. Since there was no other way in, they followed it.

The found signs of the adventuring group... most notably their blood-marred camp. Serana grimaced.

"Wonder what happened here..."

"Let's not ask," Auriel advised. "We may find out the hard way, and I'd prefer not knowing, myself."

In fact, Auriel smelled the living, undoubtedly mad Khajiit long before they saw him, or heard him, even. There was a subtle underscent to him, and she wrinkled her nose a little in disgust. Skooma. She wasn't sure whether to feel sorry for the mad thing, or derisive.

Either way, it took a bit before they were able to get to him and put him out of his misery. The snow and ice had started to be replaced by more overt Dwemer ruins at that point, though there were very much not warm. Auriel also scented something that made her growl, very softly.

"Stay on your guard," she said quietly. "Not only are we likely to run into Dwemer irritants, there's also Falmer down here."

"How can you tell?"

"They stink," Auriel said succinctly.

"You can smell them in this cold?"

"...right, I never did tell you, did I?" Auriel smiled briefly, ruefully. "I'm a werewolf. Though admittedly according to one of the other Companions, I resemble a cat more than a wolf."

Serana just blinked a couple of times.

"Oh," she said. "But... I've never seen you become a werewolf."

"And I've never seen you feed, though I'm sure you do," Auriel shrugged a little. "I didn't change by accident, I chose it. And since I chose it, my transformations aren't bound to any sort of lunar cycle. I can change when I want, if I want. I just don't want to. I keep it for its advantages, not for the transformation itself."

"I see. You're a little like me then, aren't you?"

"Perhaps," Auriel shrugged again. "Perhaps the only difference being that I chose it, and can purify myself if I so choose in the future."

"I could... probably do that," Serana said after a minute. "But I just don't want to."

"I know. It's fine. Vampire or not, you are someone I trust. Now come on. Let's keep moving."

The first part of the ruin was almost irritatingly loud with steam-power contraptions popping up every few moments. Almost getting clipped by one nearly knocked Serana into Auriel. Auriel snickered a little, and pushed the vampire back up onto her own feet.

"Dwemer ruins," she grinned slightly. "A pain in the ass, but you eventually get used to them,"

"Personally, I'd rather not," Serana sighed.

Fortunately, once they were past the first room, it was quieter, even if the spiders were more prominent. _They_ would at least go down silently.

Beyond they found quieter hallways, though the Dwemer machinery seemed to be working on as ceaselessly as ever, and Auriel found a place to rest. Stone beds were neither warm, nor comfortable, but the few hours of sleep she got helped immensely with her desire to continue.

On they continued, past noisy Dwemer pistons, and through a door that led to steam filled rooms, and air that almost qualified as warm. It also smelled strongly of Falmer, and blood. The encountered more Dwemer constructs first, though, and it was satisfying to realize how one precise shot with spell or arrow could knock the gyro askew just so, and the machine would fall. It was almost a game between them, to see who could take it out first.

If nothing else, it helped to break up the tense monotony of creeping through a Dwemer ruin, trying to find Mzulft.

"I will say this about the Dwemer," Auriel murmured as they stopped so that she could have something to eat. "They built all of this to _last_."

"Yeah... I wonder what these must've looked like, when they were operational and full of people?" Serana asked.

"Probably a lot more impressive than this," Auriel replied wryly. "Divines know they probably wouldn't have let this place get covered in ice if they had the choice."

Serana chuckled a little and nodded, and after a few minutes they moved further in. Eventually they came to a dead ended, where the path had fallen away. Auriel glanced down, shrugged, and lowered herself over carefully; she had little desire to hit the dead orc body she could see below. Serana followed after, and sighed.

"No going back that way," she said.

"Nope. We'll have to keep searching; Dwemer ruins always had two or three ways out at least. Don't worry. We'll be fine."

"We're just going to kill anything in our path, is that right?" Serana asked, raising an eyebrow.

Auriel smirked.

"It's always worked for me before."

"...sometimes, my friend, you are downright scary."

The redhead laughed.

"I'm quite pleased to be so. Now, we're getting into Falmer territory, so it's best to be as silent as possible from hear on in. Their hearing is _very_ acute, to make up for their blindness."

Serana nodded, and followed Auriel further in. Sure enough, not more than two feet down the path, they all but ran into one. Fortunately, knocking it off the path worked much the same as it would for anyone else, and the creature tumbled to what was likely a painful death.

They moved down the path, taking two more by surprise, then slipped silently past a jet of flame that was pointed only straight down. The heat of it, brief as it was, actually felt quite nice, and Auriel breathed out a faint sigh of wanting; she was missing Farkas rather fiercely at the moment, and wished Serana had been more comfortable with bringing him along.

The rooms beyond almost seemed like storage and cooking areas; there was even a spot that held a very modern alchemic set up, something that Auriel side-eyed warily. True,she knew that the Falmer created the poisons their arrows were laced with, but the idea of them making more was unnerving, to say the least.

The next room was just plain fun. Oil spilled on the floor lit up in a brief, lovely chaotic fire, killing most of the Falmer within. Serana mimed applause at Auriel's skill, and the elf bowed in a faintly mocking fashion. Unfortunately humor fled as the next room was revealed to be a torture room, and they found most of the bodies of the exploration team they'd expected to see above.

"Falmer really don't play well with other races," Auriel murmured.

"...so I see..."

"They must've used the lift over there to get them in," the redhead continued. "So there's our first way out, if we need it. You all right?"

"Yeah. You?"

"I'm fine."

They found a few dead Falmer on the path, and Auriel shook her head a little.

"There's at least two of the band still alive," she said after a moment of sifting through scents. "Male and female. Insane, clearly, as they should've been getting out, not coming deeper in."

"I bet they're both Nords," Serana muttered. "That race has more battle-lust then sense."

Auriel snickered in agreement, as they moved through the next set of doors.

To say that the hallways was booby-trapped was a bit of an understatement. The trick was finding a spot to step that _wouldn't_ set the trap off. Auriel was fine, but Serana had a couple of close calls, and then the Falmer on the other side didn't take too kindly to their presence. Beyond those doors, the ruin expanded upwards, and Auriel stared in no small amount of awe. It took them both a moment to shake off the need to stare in wonder at Dwemer architecture, but fortunately enough, the threat of Falmer attack was capable of doing that.

The found the switch to lower the bars after the Falmer had been dealt with, so naturally their next challenge was a steam centurion. The defeat of the metal monstrosity gave them the key to the Alftand lift, which Auriel twirled in her fingers thoughtfully.

"And here's exit number two."

They also found the two missing explorers, trying to kill each other. Auriel watched, then glanced at Serana.

"You were wrong. That one's a Redguard, and the other's an Imperial."

"Good thing we didn't wager on it," the vampire said blandly.

The strange little ball that Septimus had given them opened a series of stairs down. Once the explorers had died a mutual death—it was almost funny at that—they headed down into Blackreach.

Blackreach almost defied description. Glowing mushrooms stood twelve feet tall, and tendrils of their light hung from the ceiling. Water poured down in luminescent waterfalls, and the black ceiling far overhead bore patches of glowing moss, much akin to stars. At the very least, their walk through was not impeded by a lack of light.

"It's amazing," Serana murmured. "To think there was all this beneath the ice..."

"Dwemer never fail to amaze," Auriel said ruefully. "Though sometimes I wish they would."

They did their best to move in a mixture of speed and stealth; the last thing either woman wanted was the delay a grand battle would cause. At the same time, leaving the marvels of the underground world was almost sad.

"We may have to come back here, if we survive everything," Serana murmured. "I know my mother would love this place, if nothing else."

"I may even join you, as long as she promises to not eat me or my husband," Auriel said dryly.

There was even a city in the midst of all of it, though they elected to go around instead of through. It was too well-lit, and they were actually safer in the dimmer light of the tall mushrooms and glowing moss than the odd Dwemer chandelier.

Eventually they found their exit on the far end of Blackreach in a tower. A lift took them up to the Tower of Mzark, and they took the time going up to brush the worst of the luminescence from their hair and clothing.

The room they stepped into had clearly not been used in a long time. A thick layer of dust covered everything that had not molded or rotted away, and both Auriel and Serana had to deal with brief sneezing fits as they looked for anything that might be of use.

"_So_ going to take a bath when we're done here," Auriel complained, trying in vain to get the grime out of her gloves. "Maybe a dozen, if I can manage it."

"Mind if I join you?" Serana asked.

"Not at all."

Pulling open the doors led Auriel into a room that brought up all sorts of memories. She almost expected to see the Synod mage she'd killed stomping around the odd Dwemer mechanism. That was preposterous, of course, but it was a very similar set up.

Placing the edged lexicon that Septimus had given her into the receptacle activated the mechanisms, but with no clear instructions, all Auriel knew to do was to keep pushing buttons until something worked. Eventually, however, things seemed to align properly. The lexicon opened briefly, revealing inner workings of bright blue, and then another push of a button had it closing. The central pieces all slid outward, and the piece that held the scroll came down. Auriel grabbed the lexicon, and hurried down to pull out the Elder Scroll.

"That's it," Serana sighed in relief. "That's the last scroll! Let's get them to Dexion."

"Happily," Auriel sighed. "Oh, so, happily."


	37. Thirty-Six: To fetch a bow

Thirty-six:

To fetch a bow

They returned to the fort after making a brief side-trip into Riften for their much-needed, and much desired baths, and sought out Dexion. Auriel stopped short at the sight of him with his eyes covered by cloth.

"Oh no," she groaned.

"Ah, you're back," he smiled a little ruefully. "You had a successful journey then?"

"Yes," Serana said, then peered at him. "Your eyes are covered..."

"I'm afraid I can no longer be of use in the matter, my friends," Dexion sighed a little. "I neglected the careful preparations required to read a scroll in my haste to read the first one. I thought I'd be able to allay the after effects, but... I was wrong. Now I'm paying for it."

"He's blind, Serana," Auriel sighed. "It my fade in time, it may not. Either way, we're going to have to find some other way of reading the scrolls."

"How much are you willing to risk to find Auriel's Bow?" the Moth Priest asked. "Because there is another way."

"Given the alternative?" Auriel sighed. "Tell me what I need to do."

"I can't guarantee you'll be free from harm," he warned. "Becoming blind could be the least of your worries."

"It's my risk, Dexion. _Tell_ me."

"Scattered across Tamriel are secluded places known as Ancestor Glades. There's one here in Skyrim, in the Pine Forest. Performing the Ritual of the Ancestor Moth inside the glade should provide the answers you seek."

"What's involved in this ritual?" Auriel tipped her head a little.

"It involves the careful removing of the bark of a canticle tree, which will, in turn, attract the Ancestor Moths to you. Once enough of the moths are following, they'll provide you with the second sight needed to decipher the scrolls."

"Carefully gather the bark of a canticle tree," Auriel frowned slightly. "How do I go about do this?"

"In keeping with tradition, you must use a specific tool in the Ancestor Glade. An implement known as a draw knife. Every Moth priest is taught this ritual, but few ever get to perform it. You should consider yourself lucky... if it works for you."

Auriel sighed slightly.

"What about the scroll?" Serana asked. "Should... should they be read in any particular order?"

"From what I saw in the vision, the Elder Scroll which foreshadows the defiance of the gods with the blood of mortals is the key to the prophecy."

"Dexion, that doesn't tell us which scroll we need to use," Auriel said dryly.

"I'm sorry," he smiled ruefully. "That is all I can offer. I hope your journey goes safely."

"So do I..."

The blind priest reached out, and Auriel shifted a little so that he could pat her shoulder before leaving, then made her way out of the fort.

"So, where are we going?" Serana asked.

"Falkreath most likely. It's the only place other than the Rift that has forested area. Pine specifically... we'll probably be partway up a mountain."

"You're... not very happy about this, are you?"

"Not really, no. It just seems to be getting more and more complicated. It would be nice if things could go smoothly for a change." Auriel sighed a little. "Though I suppose that's too much to ask, all things considered."

Serana smiled ruefully.

"Yeah, well, it can't get-"

"Don't finish that," Auriel grimaced a little. "That's just an invitation to the gods to make it worse."

"Not feeling terribly optimistic?"

"I prefer the term realistic," Auriel snorted. "Blind optimism can be kin to foolishness, and I greatly doubt that we've reached the worst of it. _That_, I think, will come when we search for the bow. And of course any challenge that may follow after..."

"Do you ever _stop_ thinking?" Serana asked after a minute.

Auriel smiled ruefully.

"My whole life is based on staying three or more steps ahead of the people who want me dead. So, no. Not really."

"I don't know whether to be impressed or.. feel sorry for you," the vampire admitted.

"Be neither. It is a skill I picked up out of necessity. I do not regret it, but there are days where I do not appreciate it either. Now, come on. The faster we're in Falkreath, the sooner we can find this glade."

It took a couple of days after getting to Falkreath to track down the Ancestor Glade. It didn't help that their path was dogged by vampires, undoubtedly sent by Harkon yet again. No doubt he wanted the scrolls, _and_ the ability to read the full prophecy.

Finding a proper path up the mountain was not helped by these delays, and Auriel muttered a few threats against Harkon, mostly involving fire.

The glade, when they finally reached it, seemed small at first. There was no sign of anything that looked like a canticle tree, a draw knife, or a moth. Serana made a slightly disparaging sound.

"If this ends up being a wasted trip, your friend Dexion and I are going to have some words when we get back," the vampire complained.

Auriel frowned a little, studying, then made her way across the fallen log. This was too small to be such an ancient place, and she could _feel_ the power buzzing nearby. A small stone corridor led them into the _actual _glade, and both women stopped to stare.

"Wow," Serana breathed. "Look at this place... no one's been here in centuries. I doubt there's any other place like it in Skyrim. It's beautiful."

Beautiful it was; set between mountains, the glade had flourished due to the gap in the ceiling that let in shafts of sunlight. The trees soared overhead as they cautiously crept down several stairs. The canticle trees and draw knife both were at the center to the glade, and Auriel gingerly scraped some of the bark off, hoping that it wouldn't damage the tree any. The moths didn't swarm to her, but when she walked near some fluttering around, they immediately moved to swirl around her.

"Look at that," Serana giggled a little. "They've definitely taken a liking to you."

They were lovely moths too, pattered mostly in shades of subtle brown. As she walked around, more swarms joined her, and the air began taking on a peculiar feeling. A subtle anticipation. The moths landed on her in some places, and tickled her face and ears with their feet. It took a lot to not try and brush them off, or shake her head too sharply.

The shaft of light was almost blinding when she looked at it after several swarms had joined her, and Serana was covering her eyes somewhat.

"You think it's enough?" the vampire asked.

"Who knows... but let's try."

Auriel moved carefully down to the light, took a deep breath, then pulled out the scrolls. They left patterns in the air when she unrolled them, and her breath caught as visions assailed her mind A map. Directions. And then a wave of white. She staggered, and Serana caught her arms gingerly, trying to avoid flattening any of the moths that had landed.

"Are you okay?" she asked worriedly. "Almost thought you were going somewhere... You went as white as the snow."

"That was..." Auriel shook her head a little as the moths fluttered away. "Odd."

"I could see it in your eyes. You looked about a thousand leagues away," the vampire said. "Do you know where we can find the bow?"

"D... Darkfall... Darkfall Cave," Auriel said woozily.

"Then it's almost over," Serana sighed in relief. We can finally put an end to this ridiculous prophecy! Where is Darkfall Cave?"

"I can find it, but... I don't think I could give you directions..." Auriel shook her head a little, trying to clear it.

"Well, then we should get going," Serana said firmly. "We should get there before my father has a chance to track us down again."

"...You're a bit late there, Ser," Auriel murmured, pointing. "They have already."

"What?"

Serana turned, then pushed Auriel out of the way. As the Altmer was in no condition to fight, she kept her head down as Serana attacked the enemy vampires fiercely. When it was done, Serana returned to help Auriel stand up again.

"You really need to rest," she said worriedly. "Is there a nearby place where you can do that?"

"Lakeview... my house. It's... it's not far. I just need to clear my head some."

"Okay, yeah, come on. You can barely stand, let alone walk. Let's go rest there for a while."

Auriel nodded, worn out by the effort of reading the scrolls. Serana helped support her, and she kept her feet under her well enough to make it most of the way. She would never figure out why Farkas was there, but he showed up with impeccable timing, as her energy flagged, and gently picked her up.

"You two look like you've been moving for weeks," he said quietly.

"You wouldn't be far wrong," Serana replied.

"Auri?"

"M'okay," she murmured. "Just... tired..."

She had enough awareness to be of some use when they helped her out of her armor, but beyond that, the bed was the softest thing she'd felt, and she was out. Farkas was sitting beside her when she woke up, one of the many books she had scattered through the house in his hands. When she stirred, he abandoned the book to help her sit up. Absently she wondered if Serana had attempted to go on without her.

"...how long was I out," Auriel groaned as she leaned on him.

"A while," he murmured, smoothing her hair gingerly. "You okay?"

"Mmmmm, no. Not really," she sighed. "Reading an Elder Scroll, being chase by vampires, and tracking a weapon known as Auriel's Bow... no, definitely not okay."

He just hugged her, and kissed her forehead. Softly she slipped her arms around his waist, taking comfort in the warmth and feel of him. After a few moments, she sighed, and pulled away.

"As much as I enjoy this, I really shouldn't linger," she said apologetically. "I've probably set us behind more than a little because of this."

"If my father's tracking us," Serana poked her head in through the doorway and smiled a little, "he's doing a pretty bad job. We've been here a few days now, while you slept, and he hasn't found us. So it's fine if you need to keep resting up. It's a pretty nice place."

"You should eat something anyways," Farkas urged gently. "You're too skinny."

Auriel couldn't help but laugh a little ruefully; she really hadn't been taking care of herself all that well lately. Skimping on sleep and food to keep going didn't work terribly well for adventuring. She allowed herself to be talked into a large meal, and then pushed back to bed for some more rest.

It was _nice_ to spend time with her husband again. Serana didn't seem to much mind the delay either; she was fairly impressed by the setup of Lakeview, and the number of books Auriel had collected kept the vampire very happy for the few days it took to recover from reading the scrolls. Farkas was solicitous, and cautious; he was trying to stay out of Serana's way and at the same time, not bother Auriel if she didn't want his attention.

It was actually a little amusing. They did have to leave eventually, but both women were better for the chance to rest and relax.

To get to Darkfall Cave, Auriel first led the way to Solitude, and then set out in a westerly direction through the mountains. There didn't seem to be a straightforward path to the place, but fortunately, they weren't terribly constrained by underbrush or other things.

Darkfall was like most other caves, dark and damp, with the occasional smattering of light. They found their way more by touch than sight, eventually making their way to a dead end wish a river rushing below, and a rickety bridge that led to nowhere.

"Down?" Serana asked.

Auriel sighed.

"So it would seem."

They jumped into the icy water, and did their best to stay above the water as the current carried them downriver, depositing them none-too-gently in a shallower stream bed.

"Remind me to never do that again," Serana groaned.

"Somehow, I don't think you'll need it," Auriel replied, doing her best to shake the worst of the water from her armor. There was no way she was going to walk down the badly lit corridor ahead squelching. With her luck, they'd have to go into ice and snow as well, and that was very much not happening.

They found, eventually, a dry path. It was somewhat better lit, due to someone having set up torches and a brazier recently, as well as a still flickering campfire, though there was no one alive around it.

"Why would anyone want to set up camp here?" Serana asked.

"Who knows," and Auriel shrugged a little. "The only ones who could tell us that are dead. And the air reeks of troll. Probably best to not linger and find out."

"True. Which way should we go?"

Auriel frowned; while she'd known how to get to the cave, she had no map of its interior, and thusly, could only guess.

"Let's try the lower path first," she said finally. "At the very least, we can double back if it's a dead end."

They headed down, following the planted torches and tipped braziers until they came to an underground lake, the place where the trolls made their home. Unlike the adventurers, neither woman was inclined to have such a threat hanging over their heads, and soon enough all the trolls were dead, enabling them to explore a little more thoroughly, a little more safely.

They found, at the far end of the lake, something that looked to be a small shrine... and a mer of no race either had seen before.

"Come forward," he said genially. "You have nothing to fear here."

He was pale as the snow, with golden eyes, his white hair cropped short, and he wore armor of a type that Auriel could not place. He was taller than her by several inches, though he carried himself with a somewhat mournful, almost diffident air that made him seem smaller.

"I am knight-paladin Gelebor," he introduced himself, bowing slightly. "Welcome to the great Chantry of Auri-El."

"This... cave is a temple to Auriel?" Serana asked.

The humor under the question made Auriel snort a little and elbow her friend.

"Auriel, Auri-El, Akosh, Akatosh," he shrugged a little. "So many different names for the deity of the snow elves."

"...you certainly don't _look_ like a any Falmer I've ever seen," Auriel said after a stunned moment.

"I prefer snow elf," he said a little tersely. "The term 'Falmer' usually has a negative meaning to most travelers. Those twisted creatures you call Falmer, I call the Betrayed."

Which made sense; it was fairly common knowledge for most adventuring souls in Skyrim to know how the Falmer came to be. Auriel nodded a little in understanding, then sighed slightly.

"I hope you know why we're here, because the tale could be a while in telling," she sighed a little.

"Of course. You're here for Auriel's Bow. Why else would you be here? I can help you get it, but first, I must have your assistance."

"Of what sort?"

"I need you to kill Arch-Curate Vyrthur... my brother."

Auriel blinked a few times.

"You want me to... what? Why?"

"The kinship between us is gone. I do not understand what he's become, but he's no longer the brother I once knew. It was the Betrayed... they did something to him. I just don't know why Auri-El would allow this to happen."

"Expecting protection from a god will be a long wait for a ship that may never dock," Auriel said dryly.

"So what did they do to your brother?" Serana interjected.

"They swept into the Chantry without warning, and began killing everyone without pause," Gelebor replied tightly. "The Chantry was a place of peaceful worship. I led a small group of paladins, but we were no match for the Betrayed's sheer numbers. They slaughtered everyone, then stormed the inner sanctum, where I believe they corrupted Vyrthur."

"...how can you be sure he's alive then?" Auriel asked.

"I've seen him. But something's wrong. He never looks in pain, or under duress... he just stand there, watching. As if he's waiting for something."

"And you never tried getting into the Sanctum to ask him?"

"Leaving the wayshrines unguarded would be an abandonment of my sacred duty as a knight-paladin of Auri-El," he sighed. "And an assault on the Betrayed in the Inner Sanctum would only result in my death."

"I will give you credit for sense, at least," she sighed slightly. "Tell me about the wayshrine."

"Here, I will show you instead."

His hand glowed with a soft light as he turned and approached what looked to be a shrine buried in the earth. The spell chimed from the sun symbol at the top, and Auriel stepped back as the entire thing slid smoothly upwards, revealing blank inner walls, and a small, dry fountain at its heart.

"Incredible," Serana murmured moving in for a closer look.

"This structure is known as a wayshrine," Gelebor said. "They were used for meditations and for transport when the Chantry was a place of enlightenment. Prelates of these shrines were charged with teaching the mantras of Auri-El to our initiates."

"What's the basin in the center signify?" Serana asked.

"Once the initiate completes his mantras, he'd dip a ceremonial ewer into the basin at the wayshrine's center, and proceed to the next wayshrine."

"So these initiates had to lug around a heavy pitcher of water? Marvelous. How long would they have to do that?"

Auriel stifled a snicker, though not the wry smile of agreement.

"Well, once the initiate's enlightenment was complete, he'd bring the ewer to the Chantry's Inner Sanctum," Gelebor explained. "Pouring the contents of the ewer into the sacred basin of the Sanctum would allow him to enter for an audience with the Arch-Curate himself."

"All that just to end up dumping it out?" Serana's expression was skeptical. "Makes no sense to me."

"It's symbolic," Gelebor said with heavy sarcasm. "I don't expect you to understand."

Auriel snickered.

"So, let's get this straight," Serana frowned a little. "We need to do all that nonsense to get into the temple, so we can kill your brother and claim Auriel's Bow?"

"I know how it all sounds," he sighed. "But if there was another way, I'd have done it long ago. The only way to get to my brother is by following in the initiate's footsteps from wayshine to wayshrine, just as they did. The first lays at the end of Darkfall Cavern, a path that represents the lack of enlightenment."

"So, this would be the first," Auriel cocked her head a little. "How many more are there?"

"There are five in total, spread far apart across the Chantry."

"...are they all in caves?"

"Oh no," he smiled a little. "The Chantry encompasses far more than a few caves, as you'll soon discover. But before I send you on your way, you'll need the Initiate's Ewer."

He passed a silver pitcher over to Auriel, who sighed a little, and hooked it to her belt.

"We need to fill this at each wayshrine then?"

"Once you've located a wayshrine, there will be a spectral Prelate tending to it," Gelebor nodded slightly. "They will allow you to draw the water from the shrine's basin, as if you'd been enlightened."

"All right," Auriel sighed a little again, then nodded. "See you."

"This may be the last time we're able to converse," he warned. "If you have any questions before you leave, I suggest you ask them. Otherwise, all I can do now is grant you my hopes for a safe journey."

Auriel shook her head slightly, and headed up the steps; she had few doubts that she would see him again at the end of things. A portal had opened in the shrine, and cautiously, they stepped through.

"That... wasn't as unpleasant as I thought it would be," Serana admitted once they were on the other side. "Kind of soothing, actually. I feel a little warmer now."

They stepped out of the ruins of a shrine, and started moving into the cavern they'd been deposited in. Strange creatures lit up the hall, then vanished as they approached. Auriel was fascinated.

"The number of things I could learn," she murmured.

"Bow first, studying second," Serana reminded her.

"Yes yes, yes yes."

Along with the strange glowing creatures, the rocks themselves seemed to hold lines of luminescence. Auriel found herself wondering if it was paint, magic, or more plantlife.

And of course, there were Falmer. Or rather, the Betrayed. If they weren't so damned vicious all the time, Auriel would have felt more sympathy for them, but the damned creatures hated anyone that was not of their own race, and that made it harder to reconcile them with Gelebor.

The cavern and tunnels were, unfortunately, _full_ of the bastards. But there was not only danger, there was also an odd sort of beauty to be found. Flowers Auriel had never seen bloomed with glimmering light, and a purple moss seemed to blanket a good portion of the ground. Auriel had to wonder if it was the work of the Falmer, their forebears the Snow Elves, or simply a natural evolution.

It made her wish that she could have shared this trip with Farkas as well. He would have enjoyed it.

Great blue stones cast more light as they went further in, and Auriel wished she dared pause to try and grab even a small one as a sample. At the least she was able to grab several of the flowers. They were beautiful, and if they lasted, perhaps they could be transplanted.

A bridge through a waterfall allowed them to continue the journey; Auriel muttered a few choice curses on the other side and had to take her boots off so that they could drain properly before they moved on.

More traps and creatures were circumvented, until they reached an immense cavern, where the oddest of the odd was finally revealed. Great cats and deer with hides of black and glowing green luminescence darted around.

"...makes you think a little of Blackreach, huh? Serana murmured coming up behind the elf. "Though we never saw anything like that..."

"It is impressive," Auriel murmured. "And I think we're almost to our first wayshrine."

"Good!" Serana said with relief. "Just four more to go after this. Hope you don't spill the jug."

"If you jinx me, I'll make _you_ carry it next time," Auriel snorted.

Serana made a face, and they made their way down gingerly; one brush with a poison spewing plant was enough to convince both of them it was worth avoiding, and the only way to get across seemed to be a convoluted path from the bottom up.

"Welcome initiate," the spectral prelate greeted them. "This is the Wayshrine of Illumination. Are you prepared to honor the mantras of Auri-El and fill your vessel with His enlightenment?"

"Yes," Auriel sighed.

She turned out the rest of his words, and rubbed her forehead wearily, glancing up only as the shrine was activated. She filled the ewer with a bit of water, then stepped through to the open portal to the next shrine.


	38. Thirty-seven: Wayshrines

Thirty-seven:

Wayshrines

The cave they found themselves in led up and out, into a valley that defied description. It held some of the glowing plants of the underground, and some of the more ordinary plants of the natural world.

"Where _are_ we?" Serana asked.

Auriel just shook her head.

"Undoubtedly off of any map we've ever seen," she murmured softly. "Oh, I am _so_ going to have to return here after we've found this bow."

There were ruins in the valley, and the way they were laid out suggested that there had, at one point, been a path. Seeing as they had little else to go on, they followed the pieces of what had once likely been a well-tended and grand place. The path led them upwards, into cold, crisp winter air, and into a small pass guarded by a handful of spiders. While not terribly _pleased_, with the spiders, they were no more difficult to defeat than they had been innumerable times before.

Eventually the pass led back out into another valley, this one more normal and snow covered. If not for the fact that Auriel was looking for things unknown, she probably never would have spotted the book, half-hidden under the snow.

"What is it?" Serana asked.

"It's... written in the snow elf language," Auriel sighed. "I'll have to take it back to the college and see if Enthir, or Urag can translate it for us. It will wait, however. Look, I think I see our next shrine."

"Like it'll be that easy," Serana snorted a little.

"Well, hush then, and let's find out, hmm?"

They did end up having to backtrack, for the shrine that had walked right on past in the valley was the Shrine of Sight, and until they went there the Shrine of Learning would not open. They were the easiest of the five shrines to reach. Their rough guide of ruins led them up to a lake that _seemed_ frozen, but made alarming popping and creaking noises when stepped upon.

"Does this ice feel a little... _thin_ to you?" Serana asked hesitantly.

"It does, but I don't see much of a choice about crossing it," Auriel said grimly. "Do me a favor and don't let me drown, okay?"

"I keep telling you that you need to switch to leather or something," the vampire chided.

Auriel snorted.

"I like my malachite armor, thank you. It takes less damage than you in a fight."

Ir probably shouldn't have been a great surprise when two dragons burst out from underneath, knocking the two women to the ground. It was a fight that could have gone very badly, if not for Auriel summoning Durnehviir.

After that, however, they stuck to the edges of the ice. Which was how they found a Word, without the typical word wall. Auriel shook her head a little and sighed.

"This trip is not going _anything_ like I'd expected," she grumbled a little.

"Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?" Serana asked.

"It's a troublesome thing, smart ass."

"Well, someone's got to keep the mood light. Come on, there's our next shrine."

It was the Shrine of Resolution. By raising it, not only did they get their fourth filling, the portals enabled them to move far more swiftly around the valley. Not that there was a portal that opened to the Chantry itself. Serana sighed a little in disappointment, and Auriel chuckled ruefully.

"You too, hm?"

"Well, it was a hope, but it was also a longshot," Serana sighed. "I suppose we should be lucky we got this far without spilling any of the water."

"Especially with those dragons," Auriel nodded a little. "I think if we take this bridge, we might find a way through, though."

"Might as well try it," Serana nodded. "Good thing you're not afraid of heights."

"Never have been, never will be," Auriel chuckled.

The bridge led them upriver, and straight back into Falmer territory. Keeping _them_ from spilling the ewer was not the easiest thing in the world. But there was little choice; the path wended its way through their territory, and farther up the mountainside. Night crept in while they moved, but when Serana suggested they stop, Auriel shook her head.

"Bad idea. Falmer territory means they'll just keep coming, and there's no point in trying to sleep with them lurking," she said quietly. "Best to just press on and hope there will be a safer nook farther up."

"...all right, if you're sure," Serana replied.

"Mmhm. Now hush."

There was no escaping the creatures, of course; every step forward led them deeper into Falmer territory, which meant more death and killing. Auriel found herself going numb from it, and also found that she didn't much care. Maybe, whenever this was over, she would feel bad. But right now, the Falmer were in her way, and she needed them gone. She could not afford sympathy or squeamishness.

While the Falmer bridges did, on occasion, creak alarmingly, they were surprisingly sturdy for the materials used in them. Apparently the charrus creatures were good for something.

They found another of the Falmer books, though the number on it indicated that they'd missed one somewhere back in the valley. Auriel just shook her head a little; she would go back and find it at a later date.

The mountain paths eventually led them to a cave from which the river seemed to be sourced, and they went in warily; it was mostly ice inside, at least on the ledges they attempted to walk on. And the water, when the did have to go in to cross the cavern, was icy cold. Auriel resolved to have a number of hot baths the moment she had the chance, because at this rate, she would be _lucky_ if she didn't lose some body parts to the cold.

Healing spells kept her blood circulating as it should; though she felt no warmer, neither did she _actually_ risk losing fingers or toes. She couldn't do much for her hair, however, and tried to avoid moving the frozen mass to keep it from breaking apart. It had taken her years to grow it so long, and she was very vain of that fact.

The slipped and slid across the ledges, occasionally going onto hands and knees for better balance and grip. The ice was not their friend, and seemed, in fact, to be attempting to thwart them at every turn. And the Falmer were, naturally, of no help at all. One of their traps could have easily knocked one, or both, women down into the icy water.

"Better at making traps than making bridges," Serana muttered. "What a strange race."

Auriel nodded, though her attention was more focused on _not_ sliding back down the ice. If this kept up, they were going to have to start using daggers to keep from slipping, and that was just wrong. Though if there was _some_ humor to be found in the situation, it was that the Falmer occasionally had the exact same troubles. Watching _them_ slip on the ice was worth a good portion of the fight to stay upright, though trying to not laugh certainly didn't help any.

Finally finding a path that was more snow than ice, and led out into a narrow canyon was such a relief that both of them had to sit, and massage aching muscles. It was _hard_ to hold a non-slipping angle, and to scramble up without falling over layers of ice. Once they caught their breath and gotten the worst of the cramps out, they pressed on, even deeper into Falmer territory. Auriel was reminded very intimately of the Dwemer ruin where she, Karliah, and Bryn had all finally tracked Mercer. Unfortunately, this time there wasn't really much of a choice to avoid these creatures; they would simply have to kill them all.

There was no low road or high road here. Just _the_ road, and unfortunately for most of the way they were killing Falmer. Auriel didn't even notice when the sun came up, and paid little mind to how cramped her fingers were getting, or how much her arms ached. They were not safe, they could not stop, she could not rest.

Eventually the road shifted, and led them down, though not for long. Making their way past more huts they found themselves traveling upwards through a dim pass. And fighting upwards through a dim pass when an errant noise meant they were caught.

To their surprise, at the top they found yet another Wayshrine, with another prelate waiting outside of it. It seemed almost blasphemous that they should encounter no more after fighting for so long, but the area was deserted, and so they wearily approached the spectral prelate. It was the Wayshrine of Radiance and it was the final shrine. Auriel was so tired that she almost curled up in the shrine itself, and possibly would have, if turning around had not revealed the Chantry to her.

Awe briefly displaced exhaustion as they crossed the bridge, leaving her to wonder again what sort of knowledge had been lost when the Dwemer had performed their cruel trick.

They stepped into the courtyard, and she looked up at the immense bronze statue, briefly unable to comprehend what she was seeing.

"This is a statue of Auriel," Serana said after a moment. "But it's using the older signs of his power. This temple must be ancient. The bow _has_ to be here."

"As does the Arch-Curate," Auriel said grimly. "not to mention who knows how many Falmer."

"...right. Let's get in there and get this done with."

"Agreed."

The basin for the water from the ewer was at the top of the stairs, and Auriel was glad to pour it out. It might not have been a heavy weight, but it had been a nerve wracking one, and she didn't mind seeing the water go. It flowed down three channels cut into the stone, and filled the sun symbol which glowed for a few moment, and the lock on the door rotated, then popped free.

In they went.

The inner Sanctum was no less impressive than the outside had been, but it was in far worse repair. Beings that had been frozen into statues remained, some with weapons, others with potions, and some with empty hands. A crowd of them were around the flame symbol in the center of the room, and Auriel felt a touch of empathy; death by being frozen could not have been kind or gentle.

"And I thought the Soul Cairn was creepy," Serana muttered.

"...it _was_."

Auriel crept through the statues, and reached out to touch the shrine of the god with whom she shared a name Warmth slid through her, and peace. Her exhaustion lifted, and she breathed the faintest of relieved sighs; whether it was the god himself, or simply the magic of the shrine, she didn't much care. She _felt_ better, and that was much appreciated after such a never-wracking, exhaustion trip.

The ewer was their key to several interesting side passages which held mostly gems and gold. Though she felt a little guilty about it, there was little point in leaving such treasures behind, so Auriel gathered them up, and then they went further into the temple itself.

Beyond the frozen bodies were some skeletons, in various positions that suggested they'd been trying to hide, or escape. Auriel and Serana both ended up muttering various prayers to their spirits. It just seemed like the right thing to do, even if it wasn't terribly logical.

They found, after some hunting and feeling the air currents, another tunnel of snow and ice that led to a ledge, with no discernible way back up.

"Ready for this?" Auriel whispered.

"No, but we can't exactly turn back now, can we?" Serana replied.

"Not so much, no. All right, come on."

The hallway beyond was uncomfortably narrow, but led to a cavern filled with a dozen or so ice statues, and the far end was Arch-Curate Vyrthur himself.

"Did you _really_ come here expecting to claim Auriel's Bow?" he demanded. "You've done exactly as I predicted, and brought you r fetching companion to me!"

"...wait... is he talking about me?" Serana murmured.

"Which, I'm sorry to say, means your usefulness is at an end!"

He did... _something,_ Auriel wasn't precisely sure what, and then the ice statues came alive. Granted they were shattered in short order, but still, it was a nasty surprise.

"An impressive display," the Arch-Curate sneered. "But a wasted effort. You delay nothing but your own deaths!"

"Watch out!" Serana yelled. "He's pulling down the ceiling!"

The warning came in good time; Auriel dove out of the way as chunks of ice hit the place where she'd been standing not moments before.

"Finish them!" Vyrthur commanded, waving a hand at the ice statues again.

His statues did not fare any better, nor did the Ice Antranoch he summoned to help them.

"No!" he snapped. "I won't let you ruin centuries of preparations!"

"Surrender and give us the bow!" Serana demanded.

The Arch-Curate's response was to blow up the room. Auriel flew backwards and made friends with the nearest wall before falling to the ground. Serana hurried over and helped her to stand.

"You all right?"

"...Lemme at him," Auriel growled.

"Let's do this," Serana nodded grimly. "He's up there on the balcony, let's go."

The cornered him there, and Serana took an impatient step forward.

"_Enough_ Vyrthur," she snapped. "Give us the bow!"

"How _dare_ you," he sneered. "I was the Arch-Curate of Auri-El, _girl_. I had the ears of a _god_."

"Until the 'Betrayed' corrupted you, yes, yes, we've heard the sob story," Serana shook her head a little.

"Gelebor and his kind are easily manipulated _fools_," Vyrthur snapped. "Look into my eyes, girl. Tell me what you see."

Auriel frowned a little, and Serana started.

"You're... you're a vampire," Serana breathed in surprise. "But Auriel should have protected you..."

"The moment I was infected by one of my own _initiates_, Auri-El turned his back on me," the snow elf said bitterly. "I swore I'd have my revenge, no matter what the cost."

"...so, wait," Auriel held up a hand. "The snow elves, some of the most learned elves in all of existence save the dwarves, did not have a cure for vampirism? Even though there _is_ one? And let's not forget the ridiculous idea of attempting to take revenge on a _god_, of all beings."

Serana shot her a sour look; Auriel simply crossed her arms over her chest. Vyrthur glared too.

"Auri-El himself may have been beyond my reach," he growled, "but his influence on our world wasn't. All I needed was the blood of a vampire, and his own weapon, Auriel's Bow."

"The blood of a vampire... Auriel's Bow..." Serana stammered a little, surprised. "It was _you?_ You created that prophecy?"

"A prophecy that lacked a single, final ingredient. The blood of a pure vampire. The blood of a Daughter of Coldharbour!"

He made the mistake in coming within arms reach; Serana reached out and grabbed his neck, lifting him up over her head.

"You were waiting, all this time for someone with _my blood_ to come along," She said lowly. "Well too bad for you, I intend on keeping it. Let's see if your blood has any power to it!"

Vyrthur was just tall enough to kick off of her, and launched a blinding flash of light and sound as disorientation. He then launched a furious attack on Serana, but he forgot one very important thing. Auriel was standing there as well, and she'd just been waiting for him to finish talking.

It was, perhaps, a little anti-climactic to watch him drop, whispering a last farewell as he died. The most interesting thing didn't happen until _after_ his death, actually, when the wayshrine in the center shot straight up with a rumble of grating stone. Gelebor stepped out, and looked down at the body of his brother with sadness.

"So, the deed has been done," he murmured. "The restoration of this wayshrine means that Vyrthur must be dead, and the Betrayed no longer have any control over him."

"...yeah, about that..." Auriel sighed a little. "They weren't the ones at fault here."

"What? What're you talking about?" Gelebor demanded.

"It was sort of the other way around. He was a vampire, and they answered to him."

"A vampire?" Gelebor blinked several times. "I see... that... that would explain much. Deep inside, it gives me joy to learn that the Betrayed weren't to blame for what happened here."

"That's... an odd view to take," Serana said after a moment.

"It means that one day they might learn to shed their hatred, and learn to believe in Auri-El, once again," he smiled a little sadly. "It's been a long time since I felt that way, and it was long overdue. My thanks, to both of you."

"You're... welcome, I think," Auriel blinked a little.

"You risked everything to retrieve Auriel's Bow, and in return, you've restored the Chantry. I can't think of a more deserving champion to carry it than you. If you wish to learn more about the bow, or obtain Sunhallowed Arrows for it, I'd be more than happy to help. You have but to ask."

He handed over the bow, and Auriel accepted it gingerly. It was a beautiful weapon of elven design, crafted of white wood, and strung with silver.

"What, may I ask, is your name, my lady?"

Serana immediately started giggling. Auriel sighed.

"My mother named me for the sun god," she said ruefully. "My name is Auriel."


	39. Thirty-eight: Harkon's End

Thirty-eight:

Harkon's end

The next natural step was to find Harkon, of course, but killing him would be neither easy, nor straightforward. Two women kicking down his front door would not go over well at all. If anything, it would get them both killed, and then Harkon would have everything he wanted, even if he didn't understand the truth of the prophecy.

So it was back to Isran they went exhausted, but ready to make that last step. Auriel slept most of the cart ride back to Riften really, though she held the bow in a protective embrace. Gelebor had been slightly in awe of her after the revelation of her name, but there had been warmth in his respect. She felt sorry for him, alone on that mountain, and had promised that she would visit as time allowed.

Isran met them in the main hall, though it was clear he was surprised to see them.

"The bow," he breathed, taking in the weapon Auriel had slung over her shoulder. "You have Auriel's Bow... I've heard it described in tales, but I could never have imagined its beauty."

"Yes, we have the bow... and now we need your help, Isran," Auriel said quietly.

"Indeed. The day hasn't been won while Harkon still walks Tamriel," he growled a little. "But what of Serana? Can she be trusted to lift a blade against her own kind? Her own family?"

"...I didn't think you cared, Isran," Serana said dryly.

Auriel smiled wryly.

"Yes, she can do it. I've had her at my back for most of this trip, and she's taken out plenty of her own kind."

"I suppose that's as much as I can hope for," he sighed. "Let me address the Dawnguard, and then we can be off. The men deserve to know that we've finally gained the upper hand."

"Address away."

Isran stuck his head into the other rooms, snapping names, and in short order the central hall was filled. They were not many in number, no, but there was no denying the strength, or heart of them. Auriel blinked a couple of times, then smiled to see Farkas. He grinned affably, and shrugged a little; clearly it was just another one of those Companions things to do. But it was _good_ to see him.

"For too long, we've allowed these vampires to poison the night and kill our people," Isran declared. "Now we finally have the means to strike back! We now have Auriel's Bow. The gods themselves have favored us, and we must answer with _action!_ The time has come to finally put an end to Harkon and his unholy prophecy! We will march on their lair and destroy those wretched abominations so they can no longer corrupt our world! This is our fight, and this is our fate! This is the time of the _Dawnguard!_"

A bit dramatic, and over the top, but typical for Isran. Auriel rolled her eyes a little at Serana, who hid a wry smile.

"This is it," he growled. "It's time we take the fight to their door. Gather your things and rest well. We'll meet outside Castle Vokihar."

Farkas moved to stand with the two women, and Serana nodded in greeting.

"Shall we be off then?" Auriel asked.

"Let's go. The sooner this is done with, the better," Serana said quietly.

"Yeah," Farkas nodded.

Most of the Dawnguard split up to make their own way to the castle, so the three of them traveling as a group raised little suspicion. In twos and threes, they made it to the castle, and settled in for the attack.

Racing across the bridge produced the first wave of defenders. Gargoyles and lesser vampires fell before the might of the Dawnguard. Auriel and Serana left them all behind, bursting into the castle itself in search of Harkon. The number of enemies that fell due to Auriel's Bow and the Sunhallowed arrows... Auriel found that she quite _liked_ the bow, and its arrows were more than slightly fun as well. The blinding flash of light that accompanied them was a _bit_ overzealous, but, well... she was quickly getting used to it.

Harkon had barricaded himself into the cathedral, but Serana knew how to get into it a different way, so they took that secondary route through, and found the vampire lord. He was in the vampiric form that he'd shown her in his bid to get her to accept his blood, and Auriel shook her head a little; powerful, yes, but her own beastblood granted her far superior abilities. _And_ she was still alive.

"Serana my darling," he frowned. "I see you still favor keeping a pet."

"You know why we're here," Serana said shortly.

"Of course I do," Harkon sighed a little, much like a disappointed parent would. "You disappoint me, Serana. You've taken everything I provided for you, and thrown it all away for this... pathetic being."

Auriel glared, and laid an arrow to the bowstring.

"Provided for me? Are you insane?" Serana demanded. "You destroyed our family. You've killed other vampires. All over some _prophecy_ that we barely understand. No more. I'm done with you! You will _not_ touch her."

And she drew her dagger, settling into a defensive stance. Auriel couldn't help but feel some small bit of pride in her friend, knowing that this could not have been an easy choice to make.

"So, I see this dragon has fangs," Harkon sighed again. "You voice drips with the venom of your mother's influence. How alike you've become."

"No," Serana snapped. "Because unlike her, I'm not afraid of you. Not anymore."

"And you..." He glared at Auriel, who lifted the bow slightly in warning and threat both. "It appears that I have you to thank, for turning my daughter against me. I knew it was only a matter of time before she'd return with hatred in her heart."

"As much as I'd like to take credit for it, your own neglect and madness did this. My only input was being her friend," And though her voice was tight, Auriel smiled her sweetest, most mocking smile. "Too bad for you."

"A small price to pay for the betterment of our kind," he sniffed.

"Yes, well... it's time for you to go now."

"Yes, yes, and what happens when you've slain me, oh noble huntress," he sneered. "Is Valerica next? Or Serana?"

"Your attempts at baiting me are adorable and pointless," Auriel said dryly. "I will not hurt Serana, and she knows it. She is my friend. Honestly, I'm just here to kill you."

"Then my daughter is truly lost," he shook his head a little. "She died the moment she accepted a mortal into her life. It is interesting, however, to see you can set aside your morals when it suits you."

"As if you're one to talk!" Serana shot back.

"Enough talk," Auriel said, lifted the bow.

"Yes, quite. I've had enough of speaking to you and my traitorous daughter. I'll give you one chance to hand over the bow to me. There will not be another."

"Over my dead body," Auriel snapped.

"So be it!"

Fighting Harkon was anything but easy. The reflection of the arrow's light caught him many times, but he was hard to track, and faster than Auriel's impressive reflexes at times. A fountain of blood on the dais of the cathedral provided a place for him to replenish himself, especially when the threw up a barrier that deflected the arrows. He raised undead and brought gargoyles to life in his attempt at taking down both women.

Serana was the one who landed the final blow, and he stared at her in shock, even as he crumbled into ash.

"Well," Serana said shakily. "Now that's done..."

"Any plans?" Auriel asked, sitting heavily on some nearby stairs, and rubbing at her aching ribs.

"I'm not sure," she admitted. "I think I'll stay with the Dawnguard, for as long as they'll let me. They're respectable fighters, and I think they'll see the benefit of having a vampire on their side now. Of course, if _you've_ got any more adventures planned..."

She trailed off suggestively, and Auriel laughed.

"You're a good friend, Serana, and my doors are always open, but my next adventure will involve me dragging my husband around. If you want to tag along, feel free, but I warn you now, we're going to be getting involved with more dragons."

"...maaaybe I'll rest up and let you handle that one alone," Serana laughed.

Isran joined them in the cathedral, and looked around, then lowered his weapon.

"It's over," he sighed. "He's dead, and the prophecy dies with him. I..." He hesitated, looking at Serana. "I suppose this is difficult for you."

"I think my father really died a long time ago," she sighed sadly. "This was just... the end of something else. I did what needed to be done, nothing more."

"I think perhaps... I think you did more than that," Isran said a little grudgingly. "You have m thanks."

"Keep that up, and I'll start thinking you like me or something," Serana teased.

Auriel snickered at the irritated look Isran threw the both of them. Serana bowed a little mockingly, and walked out of the cathedral.

"The beast is destroyed," he said gruffly. "And Auriel's Bow is in safe hands. The Dawnguard will now be dedicated to safeguarding it, making sure _that_ prophecy will never come to pass."

"I think I'll keep it," Auriel said with a smirk. "But thanks for the offer."

"...even with these vampires gone, the fight isn't completely over. Once we're settled back into the fort, there will be more work to do," he frowned. "We'd be honored to have you join us."

"I'll think about it," she nodded a little. "But for right now, I think I need a good long nap, and then there's a few other things I need to take care of first. But I'll think about it."

"I suppose that's the best I can get."

"Hey, Isran."

"What?" He glanced sideways at her.

"Sorry about the punch. But you really did deserve it."

He chuckled lowly, the first she'd ever heard from him.

"I did. And you were right, she is a valuable asset. I'd prefer her _without_ the vampire blood, but... I can see how it might have its advantages. As long as she understands that if she starts murdering indiscriminately..."

"I doubt Serana's the type," Auriel said dryly. "Better go round up your people and clear off the island though. You didn't exactly leave anyone behind to _guard_ the fort."

He sighed in an exasperated manner, and stalked out of the cathedral, letting Farkas meander in.

"Is it over?" he asked.

"Mmhm. One pile of vampire ashes, one vampire ally, and one intensely powerful bow," Auriel smiled a little and leaned on him briefly. "Not too bad, really."

"What about that lady at the Inn, who wanted to go off to Kynesgrove?"

"Oh Far," Auriel huffed. "We'll get back to her after I've found a safe place for this, and shown you a few places. There's a _lot_ that I want you to see."


	40. Thirty-nine: Kynesgrove

Thirty-nine:

Kynesgrove

In truth, if she'd had the choice, she wouldn't have gone back to Delphine or Kynesgrove at all. After stowing the bow and remaining arrows away in a safe place, Auriel had proceeded to take Farkas to the places she'd wanted to share with him. Blackreach, the Lost Valley, even down the paths of the initiate, though there was little point to it. She introduced him to Gelebor, then informed the snow elf of the use the bow had been. He'd expressed pleasure in her use of it, and hadn't mentioned wanting it back, so she didn't offer.

She took the Flamer books up to the College, and Urag sent them to Calcelmo, who translated them and sent them back with demands for more. Unfortunately, the four were all that had been found, and there were no more that had survived. It was interesting to read Falmer poetry, and the writings of their past, to see what they once had been instead of what they currently were.

The journey was much more leisurely with Farkas, and she settled back into a semblance of peace and contentment. Not laziness, but... relaxation. He brought a return of simplicity to her, and she welcomed it willingly, embraced the lack of a need to plan for the future. Who could touch her now?

She filled her husband in on what he'd missed as well; the fighting, the exhaustion, the near misses and the hits. He listened intently, held her close, and gave her little kisses when she needed them. Little kisses led to longer kisses, and lingering touches. He did not push so much as she instigated, and they were both sated at the end, tucked safe in their home and with each other.

There was something... entirely special about being with her husband. The one she loved. In the past, such things had been used as a way to gain information, because pillow talk led to the loosest of talks. But with no need, and drive to gather anything beyond comfort and pleasure... well, it was definitely something.

Eventually, however, reality had to intrude. And Farkas' gentle reminders about Delphine reminded Auriel that she _had_ said she would go when she was done with Solstheim. Except then the vampires had attacked Ulfric, and she'd needed to deal with that because _no one_ got away with trying to take out her family. And that had taken much longer than anticipated as well.

Delphine, when they finally made it back to the Inn, was long gone; her hired help at the bar said that she'd gone to Kynesgrove a few days before, and they could probably catch up if they hurried. Auriel didn't _want_ to hurry, but she didn't lag much either.

And somehow, they arrived just in time. As they were heading up the path, people were running down it, fleeing in fright.

"You don't wanna go up there," one of the villagers cried. "There's a dragon attacking!"

"Where?" Auriel demanded, grabbing the woman by the arm.

"It flew over the town and landed on the old dragon burial mound! I don't know what it's doing up there, but I'm not waiting around to find out!"

She yanked her arm out of Auriel's grip and scrambled down the path. Auriel looked at Farkas, and nodded a little.

"Looks like we have some perfect timing," she said as they headed through the small village towards the mound. "Wonder how long Delphine's been waiting for this?"

"Don't want to know," Farkas replied, pulling his sword over his shoulder. "The sooner we kill this thing, the better."

"Right."

As if in response to the question, Delphine herself ran across their path.

"Up here," she called over her shoulder. "The burial mound is this way!"

The followed the Blade, and Auriel stopped short when she saw the black dragon that had been present at the execution so long ago. He spoke in words that she couldn't understand, though they lacked the rumble and fire of the Thu'um she'd come to know. It was a speaking voice. It almost sounded... sad. And then a Thu'um made up of words she could not catch was launched into the mound. The ground shifted, and the bones of the dragon unbruied themselves, and as though time ran backwards, were swiftly cloaked in flesh and scale.

The dragon spoke, and at best, Auriel caught a name. The black dragon was known as Alduin. The spoke but briefly, then Alduin looked at the Altmer, who was silently swearing at the fact that she had not spent more time with the Graybeards in an attempt to learn the language, not just the power.

"You do not even know our tongue, do you?" Alduin switched over to the common tongue, and Auriel tensed. "Such arrogance, to dare take for yourself, the name of Dovah."

About to protest—everyone else insisted on calling her that, she held no care for it, as all it had brought her so far was trouble—Auriel was cut off entirely as Alduin turned back to the dragon, and said something else. One of the words she did recognize. Death. She did not doubt that Alduin was demanding this other dragon kill them.

He didn't have much luck, like the other dragons that had tried such things.

"I'll be damned, you _did_ it!" Delphine exclaimed. Then as Auriel moved towards the downed dragon, the Blade took a step back. "Wait, what's happening?"

The light of the dragon's knowledge slid through and around Auriel and she sighed a little; if nothing else, the soul held a warmth that briefly soothed the aches of fighting.

"So you really are..." Delphine breathed.

"Proved to your satisfaction now?" Auriel asked tartly.

"I owe you some answers, don't I?" the woman asked sheepishly. "Go ahead. Whatever you want to know. Nothing held back."

"Delphine of the Blades," and Auriel smiled thinly at the shock on the other woman's face, "what do you want with me?"

"A very long time ago, the Blades were dragonslayers, and we served the Dragonborn, the greatest of dragonslayers," Delphine said after several minutes of stunned silence. "For the last two hundred years, since the last Dragonborn emperor, the Blades have been searching for a purpose. Now that dragons are coming back, our purpose is clear again. We need to stop them."

"...that's all well and good, but that doesn't explain you purpose in bothering me about it," Auriel shook her head a little. "I need neither guidance nor guardianship, thank you, and I am quite capable of looking out for myself."

"Look, I'm not going to argue with that, but I need your help. I want to find out who's behind the dragons, and the Thalmor are the best lead I've got. If it's not them, they'll know who it is."

"Are you _insane_?" Auriel demanded. "You think the Thalmor could raise a dragon? _Any_ dragon?"

"Auri..." Farkas laid a cautious hand on her shoulder.

She took in a breath, and let it out slowly.

"Why would you even _think_ something like that?" the redhead finally demanded. "The Thalmor are powerful, yes, but they're not gods."

"Nothing solid, yet," Delphine admitted. "But my gut tells me it can't be anybody else. The Empire had captured Ulfric. The war was practically over. Then a dragon attacks, Ulfric escapes, and the war is back on."

"Not anymore," Auriel muttered.

"Well, the dragons are attacking everywhere, indiscriminately. Everyone is weakened by it. Who _else_ gains from that but the Thalmor?"

Auriel sighed a little, shaking her head. Even if it _were_ possible, the Thalmor would've had no chance of controlling the dragons. They certainly couldn't control them _now_, that was for certain.

"Assuming they did, how would you get the proof?"

"If we could get into the Thalmor Embassy... it's the center of their operations in Skyrim-"

"Hold that thought, _no_," Auriel interrupted firmly. "I have spent almost two years building up the ability to _not_ be touched by them, and you want me to walk on into a den of hungry bears?"

"Well, if you could that would be helpful, but I don't see how," Delphine frowned. "I've got a couple of ideas that might work though."

"What part of _no_ did you just miss?" Auriel demanded. "If they figure out who I am, dragons will be the _least_ of your worries, and _I_, most likely, will be _dead!_"

"Why?" Delphine snorted. "You're one of their kind."

"I _was_ a Thalmor," Auriel snapped. "_Literally!_"

Delphine went silent in surprise, and Farkas carefully wrapped Auriel in his arms. She was trembling a little, angry and afraid all at once. The Embassy wasn't closed, and just because she was well protected didn't mean that she wanted to tempt fate any by showing up there for whatever reason.

"Look, just... meet me back in Riverwood," Delphine said finally. "I've got to pull a few things together first."

Auriel growled a little, and Farkas' hold tightened slightly. She wasn't sure if he was holding her back or trying to provide comfort, but focusing on the slight tickle of his breath over her ear was better than trying to convince Delphine that she wasn't going to do this. Delphine nodded at the silence, and walked off, back down the road. Only when she was out of sight did Farkas loosen his grip.

"...sorry," he murmured, nuzzling her gently.

"I'm fine," Auriel snapped. "You didn't hurt me."

"No... sorry you're scared."

She blinked, and then slowly allowed herself to lean back against him.

"What'm I going to do Far?" she asked a little plaintively. "She wants me to step directly into the den of a dragon. If the Thalmor at the Embassy find out who I am, I'm a dead woman."

"Over my dead body," he growled a little, tightening his hold briefly.

"It would be over your dead body, dear," she nuzzled him softly. "I don't want to see that..."

She felt more than heard him sigh, and he nuzzled back, planting a kiss on her temple.

"Whatever you choose to do, Auri, I'll stand by you," he said simply. "We can forget about this junk and go somewhere else for a while."

"...no," she sighed. "Somehow, I think this is something I will have to take care of, and I might as well get it over with. Not that I like it."

"I'm here," he said firmly. "Right here where you need me."

She smiled a little, plaintive and sad.

"You are far too kind to me."

"I love you," he said simply.

"...yes. I know."

They beat Delphine back to Riverwood by half a day, and Auriel didn't appreciate the wait. Delphine took them back to the secret room, then smiled a little in triumph.

"I think I've figured out how we're going to get you into the Thalmor Embassy," she said.

Auriel grimaced.

"Yes, because I'm not the bigger target," she grumbled.

Farkas wrapped his arm around her shoulder and tugged her a little closer. It helped, a little.

"The Thalmor ambassador, Elenwen, regularly throws parties where the rich and connected cozy on up to the Thalmor," Delphine continued. "She doesn't have many left to throw, since Ulfric's closing the Embassy soon, so they're getting progressively more elaborate. I can get you inside one of them. Once there, you can slip away and get into Elenwen's secret files. I have a contact inside the Embassy. He's not up for this sort of high-risk mission, but he can help you. His name's Malborn. Wood Elf, plenty of reason to hate the Thalmor. You can trust him."

"I still think you're going up the wrong tree for this," Auriel shook her head. "The Thalmor have power, yes, but not _that_ much power."

"Well, who _else_ could be behind it?"

"It may well just be the gods," Auriel shrugged. "Do some research into dragons, and Alduin's name comes up a lot. The best I've heard was that he was somehow thrown out of time, and would some day return."

"Nordic myth and legend," Delphine shook her head stubbornly. "The Thalmor have _got_ to have something to do with this."

"Delusional, and stubbornly blind in your hate," Auriel sighed again. "Fine. Where do I meet your contact?"

"I'll get word for him to meet you at the Winking Skeever, in Solitude. You know it?"

"Yes, I know it."

"Good. While you're doing that, I'll get you an invitation to Elenwen's party. Meet me at the Solitude Stables after you've arranged things with Malborn. Any questions?"

"Only the one of how I let myself get talked into this madness," Auriel sighed in exasperation, and turned to leave, Farkas at her side. "And make sure that invitation says 'and guest' because I'm not leaving Farkas behind."

Farkas dropped back, letting her stomp her way up the road to Lakeview. She was scared, and that made her angry. She would have rather been anywhere _but_ going to a Thalmor party; she had attended her fair share of them as a spy, and they had been her grounds for seducing information from people, but that didn't make her any more willing to go to this one. And it would get worse if she had to leave Farkas behind.

When she slowed from a furious stalk into a calmer walk, Farkas caught up with her, and slid his arm around her shoulders again.

"It'll be okay," he said.

"I hope you're right, Far. I really do."


	41. Forty: Parties and the Ratway

Forty:

Parties and the Ratway

Malborn was tucked in the back of the Skeever, and looked entirely uncomfortable to be there at all. He fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair, and shrank a little diffidently when she approached.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"Our mutual friend sent me," Auriel grimaced a little.

"Really?" His eyebrows shot up, and he raised his voice in surprise. "_You're_ who she picked?"

"Would you keep your voice down?" Auriel asked, tone polite, and expression cold. "I will blend in, as much as I dislike it, and do _not_ take me for yet another fair face with no brains behind it. I once worked for your masters."

Malborn went immediately silent, but there was no hiding the anger in his eyes.

"Here's the deal," he said quietly. "I can smuggle some equipment into the embassy for you. Don't plan on bringing in anything else though. They take security to an art form."

"Yes, I recall," Auriel frowned.

"Give me what you can't live without, and I'll make sure it gets in," he promised. "The rest is up to you."

"All right, give me a minute..."

She had anticipated that much, at least, and handed over a bag with the items that she would need to take in.

"Is that it?" Malborn pressed.

"Well, unless you can smuggle him in...?" Auriel gestured at Farkas, who stood nearby, watching for trouble.

"...sorry, but I smuggle equipment, not people. For him, you're on your own."

"I figured as much," Auriel sighed. "Then no, that would be everything."

"All right, I'll get this to the embassy," he nodded a little. "See you at the party."

He left; Auriel gave him a thirty-minute headstart before she meandered out into the midday sunshine, lifting her nose into the breeze.

"It feels weird to walk around with no armor," She admitted idly after a moment. "Like I'm tempting fate."

Farkas chuckled a little, and leaned in to kiss her cheek.

"I've got your back," he said comfortably. "No one will touch you while I'm around."

She smiled faintly, and leaned up to kiss his cheek. Now if only Delphine had managed to add Farkas to the list...

Delphine was where she said she would be, and stood up quickly when the pair arrived.

"Did you give Malborn what he needed?"

"Yes," Auriel said flatly.

"Good. I have your invitation to the party. I used the name you suggested, so I hope you'll remember to respond to it. And I... couldn't get you one that let you bring a guest. It was hard enough getting one of these things."

"I have been a spy and running under names not by own for longer than you've been _alive_, Delphine," Auriel said dryly, then she sighed sadly. "And I really expected that."

Farkas grimaced, and nuzzled her a little; he'd been hoping to tag along as well.

"Here, put these on. They should help you blend in a bit better. I'll take your gear back to Riverwood with me, and guard it. Your man, too."

Auriel found a place to change, straightened her hair, and presented herself.

"I guess that'll have to do," Delphine frowned. "You should pass for a real guest, as long as you don't talk a lot."

Farkas, standing just behind Delphine, just stared, and Auriel couldn't help but smile at him; he always had that 'hit in the head' look when she dressed up, according to her station in life. She rather enjoyed it. It was cute.

"Ready to go?"

"As I'll ever be," Auriel sighed.

"All right. I'll take the rest of your stuff, and keep it safe. _You_ make sure to get yourself out in one piece with the information."

Auriel sighed again, leaned up to kiss her husband goodbye, and climbed into the cart. It was a cold trip, and she muttered a few choice words about that, huddling up a little in her fancy clothes; this was _not_ the weather to be wearing thin linen in.

She was not the only latecomer to the party, another man greeted her with a grin, and she nodded cautiously back at him.

"Another latecomer to one of Elenwen's gatherings," he grinned. "Arriving by carriage no less, I am impressed. My lateness is due more to getting lost on the way up this gods-forsaken mountain than to any desire to actually arrive late. I prefer to arrive early! Often the day before the party, so as not to miss out on any of the drinking."

Auriel nodded politely, more to delay approaching the guard than because she actually wanted to listen to this man babble. But there was only so long that she should put it off, and with dread trying to climb up her spine, she approached. The guard at the gate didn't seem to recognize her, though she'd have expected all Thalmor agents to know her name at this point.

"Welcome to the Embassy, she was greeted politely. "Your invitation, please."

She presented the paper, outwardly as cool as ice, and the Thalmor nodded.

"Please, go right on in, my lady."

Auriel's steps were slow in accordance to both dress, and rank, and it served well to hide her nerves. Behind her, the man presented his invite as well, making light of the situation. Auriel shook her head slightly; some people were immune to things like the foreboding aura a good number of agents gave off. It was, in its own way, heartening.

To Auriel's dismay, Elenwen had been watching the door, and was quick to step over.

"Welcome," she said smoothly. "I don't believe we've met. I am Elenwen, Thalmor Ambassador to Skyrim. For however long this Embassy remains open, at any rate."

"A pleasure," Auriel murmured, bowing her head to hide the fact that she was entirely not okay with this. "Aruiena Tam, at your service, my lady."

"Ah, yes... I recall your name from the guest list. Tell me more about yourself, my dear. What brings you tho this to-"

"My apologies, madam ambassador," Malborn cut in.

"What is it Malborn?" Elenwen snapped.

"It's just that we've run out of the Alto wine," he said diffidently. Auriel breathed a tiny sigh of relief as the ambassador turned her attention on the Bosmer. "Do I have your permission to uncork the Arenthia red..."

"Of course!" she sighed. "I've told you before not to bother me with such trifles."

"Yes, madame ambassador."

"My apologies," Elenwen shook her head a little. "We'll have to get better acquainted later. For now, please enjoy yourself."

Auriel held her breath as the ambassador turned away and went to speak with other guests, then slowly let it out, and sagged briefly against the wall. That had been far too close for comfort.

"Create a distraction," Malbron murmured. "I'll wait by the door."

She nodded slightly, then wondered how she might go about doing it. After a moment, a tiny smile crossed her face. Of course. That would work perfectly. Subtly she slipped the Redguard who had been as late as she a drink, and watched him go to work. It could have been very entertaining to witness, had the situation not been quite so dire. She moved back as all eyes fell upon him, and Malborn quickly and quietly led her through the house and into the kitchens. Other than a brief tiff with the Khajiit cook, there was nothing adverse, and Auriel was quick to grab her gear from the chest.

"I'll lock the door behind you," Malborn muttered. "Don't screw this up."

Auriel just nodded, feeling more tense than when she'd been going through Apocrypha. If this all went to hell, he was the _least_ of her worries.

She slipped silently down the corridor beyond; the best way would actually be to grab some justicar robes and then she could, theoretically, walk around without question or comment. She caught snippets of the guards talking, making fun of Elenwen's paranoia over dragon attacks. She stifled a snort, and shook her head a little. For her, that was more than enough proof that the Thalmor did _not_ have a hand in this, just as she surmised.

There were only three guards indoors; she slipped around all of them, and found herself a set of robes. Sure enough, when she passed the outside guards on the way to the residential sector of the embassy, they mere nodded to her respectfully. It was more than a slight relief to make it through unchallenged.

The robes were a little bit bulk over her armor, and as she stepped into Elenwen's residence, she pulled at them awkwardly, trying to make them lie better. The delay gave her a chance to listen in on the conversation.

"But I need that money, I earned it! I have my own expenses, you know..."

"Silence!" another voice snapped. The cultured accent suggested it was another Altmer. "Do not presume, Gissur. You are most useful, but do not presume. We have other informants who are less... offensive."

"But no one else has brought you such valuable information, have they?" Gissur pressed. "Etianne, he's talked, hasn't he? He knows where that old man is you're looking for, he told me himself."

"You'll get the rest of your money when we confirm his story. As agreed."

"So he has talked!" Gissur exclaimed. "I knew it!"

"Everyone talks in the end... Now, I have work to do. Leave me to it if you ever want to see the rest of your payment."

"Can I..." Gissur hesitated. "I could help you. He'd talk to me. He trusts me."

"You'd like to come downstairs with me, is that is Gissur?" the elven voice was whip-sharp. "Shall we loose his bonds and put you in a cell together? You can ask him anything you like, and see how he answers."

"No," Gissur replied quickly. "No. I'll... I'll wait outside."

"That would probably be best. Now get out."

"Etianne must know something related to the dragons... who else might know?" Gissur muttered as he made his way across the room. "Greasy Thom? No, they'd see right through him..."

The main door closed behind him, and Auriel let out a tiny breath of disgust. Well, at least some things stayed the same. People could always be bought.

She found notes on the investigations of the dragons, and two dossiers. It amused her to read Delphine's; the handwriting was her own. Ulfric's was a bit of a surprise, however, and she resolved to let him see it as soon as possible. She didn't doubt that he still harbored misplaced guilt for that, and it would hardly be to his benefit if he admitted to it. Maybe the knowledge would give him some peace.

A mix of paranoia and curiosity had her explore the rest of the house. She didn't find hide nor hair of the man who had been speaking, and the only guard in residence raised his glass to her muzzily when she walked past. She just shook her head a little, and kept moving. What she found, after a bit of searching, what a way into a very unpleasant basement. It stank of fear, pain, and exhaustion, and she grimaced a little.

"Stop, please," a man groaned. "I don't know anything else. Don't you think I'd have told you already?"

"Silence," and Altmer voice said shortly. "You know the rules. Do not speak unless spoken to. Master Rolindil will ask the questions."

Auriel glared, and lifted her bow slightly. There would be no further torture today. One arrow took care to the questioner, the other, the torturer. Then she released the prisoner, but there was no secondary way out, unfortunately, and several guards came down the stairs, with Malborn in tow. Auriel hissed quietly, and quickly pulled a dossier out of the torturer's chest before backing away into the shadows.

"Listen up Talmanari! You're trapped in here, and we have you accomplice!"

Auriel shook her head, and lifted her bow; she had no time, nor patience for this, and she owed Malborn. If they'd been smarter, they wouldn't have announced themselves that way; she was not _just_ a spy, after all. Two more arrows took out both guards, and Malborn hurried down the stairs.

"Great," he complained. "Now the Thalmor will be hunting me for the rest of my life! I hope it was worth it."

"Join the club," Auriel said dryly. "So is Delphine, so am I. Come on, idiot, let's get out of here."

The three of them left through what appeared to be the dumping ground for the remains of the torture victims, and it led out through a troll den. Auriel muttered a few choice words about people who kept trolls in their basements, ignore Malborn's whining, and shot the thing in the face until it fell. It was only a few steps beyond that she felt the breath of fresh, clean air, and sighed a little in relief.

Auriel, after a moment of thought, dragged Malborn with her to Riverwood. Delphine owed him, and therefore, she would do for keeping him safe. She also hoped to see Farkas at Riverwood.

Farkas was waiting anxiously, and picked her up in a tight hug the moment he saw her. Delphine let out a faint sigh of relief, then startled in surprise as Malborn edged around Farkas' bulk into the secret room..

"You made it out alive. Did you find anything useful?"

"Like I told you," Auriel rolled her eyes. "They knew nothing. Here, it's written in two of these reports, read them for yourself."

"...that's still hard to believe," the Blade murmured, even as she skimmed the pages Auriel handed over.

"Well, get over it," Auriel snapped. "You sent me into the lions den and then say I'm lying? Here's the damn proof. What they're _focused_ on, is finding your loremaster, Esbern."

"Esbern? He's alive?!" Delphine stared at her in shock. "I thought the Thalmor must've gotten him years ago! That crazy old man... It does make sense that they'd be on his trail too, if they're trying to figure out what's going on with the dragons."

"Yes. Your loremaster is quite a priority target, it seems, especially since more knowledge on dragons stored in Cloud Ruler Temple were destroyed or taken," Auriel said dryly. "Mostly they want his knowledge, though him being a Blade is certainly worth the effort. They seem to believe he's hiding out in Riften, in the Ratways."

"...right. When you find Esbern... well, if you think _I'm_ paranoid... you may have some trouble getting him to trust you," Delphine shook her head a little. "Just ask him where he was on the 30th of Frostfall. He'll know what it means. And... what's Malborn doing here?"

"Since you put him in harms way, I figured you could be the one to keep him alive," Auriel smiled sweetly. "He could even become a Blade later on, if we find a safe place for you lot to rebuild."

Delphine muttered a curse, and Auriel smirked. If she was going to have to put up with this nonsense, she was damn well going to make sure Delphine caught _some_ of the backlash. Farkas just shook his head a little and nuzzled at her fondly.

"You're wicked," he murmured in her ear.

"And quite proud of it. C'mon, love. Let's go find us a Blade loremaster," she grinned.

"Right behind you dear."

"No," Auriel tugged at him as they stepped out of the inn. "Right _beside_ me."

"Okay," he smiled down at her. "Right beside you."

She smiled up at him, and they made their way to the Whiterun stables, to take a cart to Riften.

It was, of course, impossible to go into the Ratway without getting caught by Brynjolf, who wanted to know what was going on. She explained, quietly, and Brynjolf obligingly pointed them in the proper direction. He also warned them that someone else had come around looking for the old man, and wasn't likely to be nice about it.

And of course, the Ratway was littered not only with Thalmor, but with traps set up to deter and kill the unwary, and other paranoid denizens. It was not a _pleasant_ trip to reach Esbern. Finally they came to a door that was in far better repair, with the making of at least a dozen locks on it. Auriel sighed a little, and tapped on it softly.

"Go away," Esbern demanded.

"Esbern" she pitched her voice, made it sound far gentler than her normal tone. "I'm a friend."

"What? No, that's not me, I'm not Esbern! I don't know what you're talking about, he said belligerently.

"Delphine wanted me to pass on a message," Auriel continued, undeterred.

"Delphine? How do you..." His expression through the small window slot he'd opened turned bitter. "So, you finally caught her, and she led you to me. And here I am, caught like a rat in a trap."

"Look, I'm not a Thalmor, but they are here in the Ratway looking for you," she said softly, swiftly. "Delphine wants your help on stopping the dragons, that's why I'm here."

"So... Delphine keeps up the fight after all these years," he sighed a little, hostility slipping away. "You'd better come in and tell me how you found me... and what you want..."

He slid the viewing window closed, and Auriel heard the sound of locks being slid back.

"This one always sticks," he grunted a little, and there was a low groaning noise. "Ah, there we go..."

It took a few minutes, and when he pulled the door open, he ushered them in quickly. Auriel raised a brow, impressed to see there looked to be more like _two_ dozen locks on the door, not just the half-dozen she'd guesstimated.

"All right," he sighed a little. "Now we can talk. Delphine really keeps up the fight?"

"Mmhm. Dragged me into it as well, in a highly unpleasant manner..."

Esbern smiled a little ruefully.

"Doesn't she realize by now that it's hopeless? I tried to tell her, years ago... "

"I suppose that would depend," Auriel cocked her head a little, and leaned against Farkas. "What's hopeless?"

"Haven't you figured it out yet?" Esbern demanded. "How much more has to happen before you all wake up and see what's going on? Alduin has returned, just like the prophecy said. The dragon from the dawn of time, who devours the souls of the dead... No one can escape his hunger, living or dead. Alduin will consume all things, and the world will end. Nothing can stop him."

"Stop," Auriel said firmly, cutting him off. "Slow down. I tried to find some research myself, but I don't have your resources, obviously. You are going to have to tell me why you're talking about the literal end of the world."

"It's all be foretold," Esbern sighed. "And it's begun. Alduin has returned. Only a Dragonborn can stop him, but no Dragonborn has been known for centuries."

Auriel chuckled a little, but before Esbern could get offended, she pointed at herself. He blinked a couple of times, then boggled.

"You're... can it really be true?" he breathed. "Dragonborn?"

"Mmhm. Confirmed by the Graybeards and everything," Auriel nodded lightly.

"Then, then there is hope. The gods have no abandoned us! We must... we must..." he paused, then looked at her seriously. "We must go, quickly now. Take me to Delphine. We have much to discuss."


	42. Forty-one: Sky Haven Temple

Forty-one:

Sky Haven Temple

Leading Esbern out of the Ratway was almost as exciting as getting in had been. The Thalmor did not _appreciate_ someone getting the jump on them for information, and they made that very clear in the number of mages and armed soldiers that mired the path.

Auriel took the old man through the cistern, instead of the Flagon, as it was marginally safer, and let her pass on a warning to Bryn that the Thalmor were sniffing around, so some of those bolt holes he'd mentioned would be a good thing to get into. _After_, of course, the entire Guild piled onto the two Thalmor that had managed to slip in.

It was, on a whole, rather amusing to not have to lift a finger. At the sign of the threat, every single member of the guild simply attacked. Auriel had to applaud their efforts, and told Bryn to give them all a bonus of some type. It was definitely pleasing to know that the Guild could hold its own against a Thalmor incursion like that.

They took a number of backroads and byways, doubling back and taking convoluted paths through water and over rock in an effort to avoid pursuit. Ironically, it wasn't Auriel's idea so much as it was Esbern's, and the trip took a good deal longer than it should have... but it was also a good deal safer.

Delphine had locked the inn up tight, escorting everyone out save the man who worked the bar. Auriel wondered idly what she'd told the people to make them all leave, then decided she wasn't sure she wanted to know anyways.

"Delphine!" Esbern's greeting was warm, and a little choked up. "I... It's good to see you. It's been a long time."

"It's good to see you too, Esbern," she smiled at him, and they clasped arms. "It's been too long, old friend. Too long." Delphine cleared her throat slightly, then shook her head. "Well then. You made it, safe and sound. Come on, I have a place we can talk."

She led the way down into the small underground room. With five people, it was a tight squeeze, and Auriel elected to stay near the stairs; she was not a fan of the close confines. Malborn looked uncomfortable as well, not sure what to do with himself.

"Now then, I assume you know about..." Delphine began, gesturing lightly at Auriel.

"Oh yes, Dragonborn. Indeed, yes," he nodded. "Gave me quite a start to find her on my doorstep, you know. Altmer and all... Ah. No offense."

"None taken," Auriel smiled wanly. "Especially considering the number of Thalmor we ran into while getting to you and leaving."

"This changes everything, of course," he smiled a little, then started digging through the bag of things he'd gathered. "There's no time to lose, we must locate... Let me show you. I know I have it here somewhere..."

"Esbern, what-" Delphine's voice was suspicious.

"Give me... just a moment..." he muttered, pawing through the bag. "Ah! Here it is. Come, let me show you."

He pulled out a book, and set it on the table; Delphine obligingly moved in to see what he was talking about. Auriel followed reluctantly, sensing that she was going to get dragged into this nonsense whether she wanted to or not.

"You see, right here. Sky Haven Temple," Esbern said, pointing out a map in the book. "Constructed around one of the main Akaviri military camps in the Reach, during their conquest of Skyrim."

"Do _you_ know what he's talking about?" Delphine asked.

Auriel just shrugged. She had no idea.

"Shhh!" Malborn hissed. "I want to know..."

"This is where they built Alduin's wall," Esbern continued, "to set down in stone all their accumulated dragonlore. A hedge against the forgetfulness of centuries. A wise and foresighted policy, in the event. Despite the far-reaching fame of Alduin's Wall at the time—one of the wonders of the ancient world—its location was lost."

"Esbern, what are you getting at?" Delphine demanded.

"You mean... you don't mean to say you haven't heard of Alduin's Wall? Any of you?"

In eerie synchronicity, all four of them affected identical shrugs. Esbern shook his head a little, disgusted. Auriel hid a smile; he was definitely a loremaster, despairing of his students in that moment.

"What's Alduin's Wall, and what does it have to do with stopping the dragons?" Delphine sighed.

"Alduin's Wall was where the ancient Blades stored all they knew of Alduin and his return," Esbern explained. "Part history, part prophecy. It's location has been lost for centuries, but I've found it again. Not lost, you see, just... forgotten. The Blades archives held so many secrets... I was only able to save a few scraps."

"...so, we're going to the Reach?" Auriel sighed. "You realize there's likely to be a number of Foresworn between us and this temple you want."

"We need to get to Alduin's Wall," Esbern insisted.

"You think it'll tell us how to defeat Alduin?" Delphine asked.

"Well, yes," Esbern nodded. "Though there's... no guarantee, of course.."

"Sky Haven Temple it is!" Delphine declared. "Malborn, grab your gear. I _knew_ you'd have something for us, Esbern."

Auriel just shook her head as Malborn pushed off the wall and made for one of the chest in the room, grabbing some gear reluctantly and strapping it on.

"We'll be heading around Karthspire, in the Karth River Canyon," Delphine said. "Which way are we heading out?"

"Separately," Auriel snorted a little. "A group of five is far more conspicuous than two groups of two and three. And Malborn is _still_ yours, so don't ask."

Malborn grumbled a little, and Auriel smiled faintly at Delphine's own look of exasperation. Maybe next time she would think before throwing people into danger. Granted it wasn't likely, but still. Petty revenge was better than nothing.

"I'll head out first and try to clear out some of the Forsworn before you arrive," Auriel said, heading for the stairs. C'mon Far, let's go get rid of some Reachmen."

"Yes dear."

The sheer number of Reachmen mean that the half-day lead Auriel had suggested was actually a bit of a bad idea, and they had to wait for Esbern, Delphine, and Malborn to catch up. Malborn was limping when they did, and had a bandage over one arm; Auriel shook her head a little in sympathy. Maybe it would have been better to let him go his own way instead... But it was too late for that now.

They mostly used arrows to pick off the numbers of Foresworn, and made their way up a slope to the cave that Esbern pointed out. The old man took the lead, and Auriel was surprised at how quickly he could move. The cavern opened up after a short bit, into a carved stone area, but there was no way across to the temple at first glance.

"This looks promising," Delphine murmured.

"Yes, definitely early Akaviri stonework here," Esbern nodded a little.

"So, how do we get the bridge down?" Malborn asked testily. "I don't feel like getting shot at any more."

Auriel snorted a little in amusement, though she most certainly agreed with that statement. Forsworn arrows were _nasty_ things.

"The pillars must have something to do with it," Delphine said, moving up to peer around Auriel.

"Yes," Esbern nodded. "These are Akaviri symbols. Now let's see... you have the symbol for 'king' and... 'warrior'... and of course the symbol for Dragonborn. That this one here."

He pointed at the far right pillar, and Auriel frowned at the image. It made no sense to her, but then, she had never much studied ancient Akaviri symbols. On a hunch, she turned all the pillars until they had the symbol for Dragonborn facing outward, and with an alarming crashing sound, the bridge lowered. As the dust cleared, and the coughing fits ceased, Delphine whistled.

"Let's see what else those old Blades left in our way," the women grinned a little.

Malborn groaned.

The next trick was pressure plates with symbols on them. Once again, the magic symbol seemed to be Dragonborn, and it wasn't too hard to navigate. A chain lowered another two bridges, and Auriel had to shake her head.

"For a group that wanted to keep everything secret and safe, they weren't terribly subtle about their keys," she said idly to Farkas.

He just chuckled and shrugged. The reached the entrance next, and it was terribly impressive. Enough so that everyone stopped to look.

"Wonderful," Esbern murmured. "Remarkably well-preserved too."

He moved forward, stopping at the edge of a small raised stone platform. Auriel grimaced; it was centuries old, and faint, but she could smell dried blood.

"Ah, and here's the blood seal," Esbern murmured appreciatively. "Another of the lost Akaviri arts. No doubt triggered by... well, blood."

"Mine, I bet," Auriel sighed.

"Very likely."

Esbern moved off to examine another portion of the wall in clear delight, and Auriel sighed, removing her gauntlet. She really disliked having to shed her own blood, but what other choice was there? At least she knew that her own dagger was sharp and sterile.

It didn't take a lot of blood, but the cut hurt nonetheless. The seal lit up from the center and began turning as Auriel back up, and the stone that had been blocking the way in shifted, grated, and pulled back. Everyone stared, and then Delphine reached out and gave her a tiny nudge.

"After you, Dragonborn," she said, and there was a surprising amount of diffidence in her voice. "You should have the honor of being the first to set foot in Sky Haven Temple."

Auriel thought about it, then shrugged and led the way in.

The temple smelled of old air and dust, things long forgotten enough to have no remaining scent of what had once been. It was dark within, and cold; Auriel cursed as she tripped over a chair and the damn thing practically fell apart at her feet, which didn't help. There was just enough light, from sunlight coming down through the cracks in the ceiling, to make walking only _somewhat_ hazardous.

Somewhat. Another chair fell apart under her, and Farkas caught her before she could fall too far.

The wall was hard to miss. It was free of moss and lichen, and even the dust of time seemed reluctant to settle on the edifice. She could hear Esbern and Delphine behind her; the old man was awed by the history around them, and Delphine had to give him a not-so-subtle reminder that they were there for the wall specifically.

"Shor's bones, here it is," Esbern breathed, looking up at the wall in awe. "Alduin's Wall... so well preserved... I've never seen a finer example of early second-era Akaviri sculptural relief..."

"Esbern," Delphine snapped in exasperation. "We need information, _not_ a lecture on art history."

"Yes, yes," He nodded absently, and moved in. "Let's see what we have here..."

He moved in, scrutinizing the wall. Auriel leaned idly against a stone table and waited to hear the explanation of the wall. It was a lovely old thing, to be sure, but it was indecipherable to her. Farkas stood near, an arm over her shoulders.

"Look," Esbern pointed at the first section. "Here is Alduin. This panel goes back to the beginning of time, when Alduin and the Dragon Cult ruled over Skyrim." He moved along the wall, pointing out more. "Here, the humans rebelled against their dragon overlords. The legendary Dragon War. Alduin's defeat is the centerpiece of the wall. You see, here he is falling from the sky. The Nord Tongues—masters of the Voice—are arrayed against him."

"So does it show how they defeated him?" Auriel asked. "Seeing as that is part of why we're here and all..."

"Patience, patience," Esbern said mildly. "The Akaviri were not a straightforward people. Everything is couched in allegory and mythic symbolism. Yes, yes, this here, coming from the mouths of the Nord heroes... this is the Akaviri symbol for 'Shout.' But... there's no way to know what shout is meant."

"You mean they used a Shout to defeat Alduin?" Delphine blinked a little and frowned. "You're sure?"

"Hmm?" He blinked a little, then nodded. "Oh yes. Presumably something rather specific to dragons, or even Alduin himself. Remember, this is where they recorded all they knew of Alduin and his return."

"So... a Thu'um..." Auriel frowned and scooted until she was cross-legged on the table. "That makes this a bit more... difficult."

"I guess you've never heard of a Shout that can knock a dragon from the sky, huh?" Delphine asked.

"No... but I know who might. I'll have to go speak to the Graybeards, it seems."

"You're probably right," Delphine grimaced. "I was hoping we could avoid having to involve them in this, but it seems we have no choice."

"Not a fan?"

"If they had _their_ way, you'd do nothing but sit up on their mountain and talk to the sky, or whatever it is they do," she snorted irritably. "The Graybeards are so afraid of power that they won't _use_ it. Think about it. Did they tried to stop the civil war, or do anything about Alduin? No! And they're afraid of you, of you power."

"There's a difference between being afraid of what _they_ can do, and what I can do," Auriel retorted. "_They_ are not Dragonborn, and spend their entire lives learning how to Speak. They rightly fear their own lack of control. And they have no reason to bother with either situation. What good would come of frail old men getting involved in a war where the wrong step has you gutted by an arrow, or spitted on a spike? The dragons would just turn them to ash, or eat them up! Don't _judge_ what you don't know, Delphine."

"I do know that Tiber Septim would never have founded the Empire if he'd listened to them," Delphine retorted.

"The same Empire that's now pretty much _controlled_ by the Thalmor," Auriel pointed out ruthlessly. "Tiber Septim wouldn't _recognize_ his Empire; there is a time to use power, and a time to withhold it. Do not think to lecture me as though I am a child, or treat me as though I know nothing about my own power. They Graybeards hold some of Skyrim's most ancient history, and if they died, it would be forever lost."

Farkas reached out, and laid a hand on her shoulder. Auriel let out a slow breath, and pulled back on her temper.

"I will go ask Arngeir if there's any sort of Shout he knows that could do this," she said after a minute, voice cooled noticeably. "Enjoy the exploration of the temple."

Malborn moved quickly out of her way as she headed for the door, and she heard Esbern continue to speak on the carving. Delphine made an irritable sound, and Auriel stifled a smile; _she_ wanted to know the Blades history more than the Blade herself. That was ironic.

Getting back to High Hrothgar seemed to take a lot longer than usual, even without being beset by all manner of animal and person. Bandits had apparently decided it was _their_ season, and some of the more aggressive beasts had been less inclined to let Auriel and Farkas pass by without a challenge.

"Why did I let you talk me into this again?" Auriel muttered.

"...sorry," Farkas smiled sheepishly.

"Ah... you couldn't have known," she sighed. "Hopefully Arngeir will have an answer for me..."

They found Arngeir in the living area of the monastery, and he greeted them courteously.

"...this is going to be a bit of an odd question, but..." Auriel sighed a little. "Do you know of the Thu'um that was used to defeat Alduin?"

"Where did you learn of that?" he asked repressively. "Who have you been talking to?"

"It was recorded on Alduin's Wall," Auriel sighed again; clearly, this was not going to be a happy conversation. "With the help of the Blades for translating."

"The Blades! Of course," Arngeir frowned. "They specialize in meddling in things they know nothing about... their reckless arrogance knows no bounds! They have always sought to turn the Dragonborn from the path of wisdom. Have you learned nothing from us? Would you allow yourself to be used as a tool-"

"_Enough_ Arngeir," Auriel said firmly. "I didn't expect you to be any fonder of them than they are of you, and I don't _care_ about it. I need the shout because Alduin has returned to the world, and if you can't share it with me, at the _least_ direct me to where I might be able to find it."

"Have you considered that Alduin was not meant to be defeated?" Arngeir said after a moment.

"Believe it or not, I have," Auriel frowned. "And I decided I was going to try anyways, because I happen to be rather attached to this world!"

"If the world is meant to end, let it end. Let it end, and be reborn."

Auriel made a frustrated sound.

"You're refusing to help me then."

"Until you return to the path of wisdom," Arngeir replied, crossing his arms, "I have no words for you."

Auriel growled a little and spun on her heel to stalk away. Einarth, having overheard the conversation, stepped forward and Spoke to Arngeir. His voice caused the monastery to rumble softly, and after a moment the leader of the Graybeards bowed his head and sighed.

"Auriel... Wait."

She stopped, and looked over her shoulder.

"What?"

"Forgive me," he said. "I was... intemperate. I allowed emotion to cloud my judgment. Master Einarth reminded me of my duty. The decision whether or not to help you is not mine to make."

"...as much as I dislike that implication, thank you, Master Einarth," and Auriel bowed to him slightly, before turning back to Arngeir. "Can you teach me this Thu'um?"

"No. I cannot teach it to you, because I do not know it," he admitted. "It is called 'Dragonrend' but its Words of Power are unknown to us. We do not regret this loss... Dragonrend holds no place within the Way of the Voice."

Auriel frowned.

"If it's lost, how then am I to learn it?"

"Only Paarthurnax, the master of our order, can answer that question... if he so chooses."

She nodded thoughtfully.

"So, then I suppose I'll need to pose this question to him."

"You still aren't ready," Arngeir shook his head a little. "But, thanks to the Blades, you now have questions that only Paarthurnax can answer."

"Why haven't I met him before now?" Auriel asked after a minute.

"He lives in seclusion, on the very peak of the mountain. He speaks to us only rarely, and never to outsiders," Arngeir explained. "Being allowed up to see him is a great privilege."

"All right... how do I reach the top of the mountain?"

"Only those who's Voice is strong can find the path. Follow, and we will teach you a Shout that will open the way."


	43. Forty-two: Paarthurnax

Forty-two:  
Paarthurnax

Arngeir stood up, and led the way outside; it wasn't hard to see that he didn't _want_ to teach her this Shout any more than he had wanted to tell her about Dragonrend. But there was essentially no other choice, and while he didn't like it, he would have to do it anyways.

Auriel and Farkas were led to a previously ignored section of the courtyard, where a fire burned in a specially made pit on the steps. Beyond were more stairs, and a gate. Outside the gate, Auriel could see icy winds swirling about, and even this close brought a chill to her.

"The path to Paarthurnax is through this gate. I will show you how to open the way," Arngeir said formally.

_Lok... Vah... Koor..._

She absorbed the words, and let out a quiet breath; yes, these would clear the howling wind away.

"I will grant you my understanding of Clear Skies," Arngeir said quietly. "This is your final gift from us, Auriel. Use it well."

Auriel nodded, and closed her eyes as she accepted his knowledge; the words, already chained together now practically sang in her mind.

"Clear Skies will blow away the mist, but only for a time," he warned. "The path to Paarthurnax is perilous, not to be embarked upon lightly. Keep moving, stay close together, stayed focused on your goal... and you will reach the summit."

Auriel bowed slightly, then turned and began ascending the stairs, Farkas at her side.

She lost count of the number of times she used the Clear Skies Shout to still the air and make the path visible, but by the time she reached the summit, her voice was a bit on the raspy side. It didn't help that the air had gotten both thinner and colder as they went up. Farkas, hardy Nord that he was, didn't seem to mind, but it hurt to breathe this far up for Auriel, dragon's blood or not.

She probably shouldn't have been surprised to discover Paarthurnax was a dragon. But she was. She fell backwards with a startled yelp as he swooped down and landed with a typical shake of the ground, but with Farkas moved to attack, she grabbed him by the arm.

"Wait, Far," she said. Then, slowly she approached the dragon. "Are you... Paarthurnax?"

"Drem Yol Lok. Greetings. Yes, I am Paarthurnax. Who are you? What brings you to my strumah... my mountain?"

"Ah..." Auriel blinked, then shook her head a little. "I really ought to have expected this..."

He seemed very amused by her response, and Auriel took a moment to compose herself.

"Somehow, I expect you actually know why I'm here."

"Yes. Vahzah. You speak true, Dovahkiin. Forgive me. It has been long since I invited tinvaak with a stranger. I gave in to the desire to prolong our speech."

"It's all right," Auriel smiled a little. "I would probably do the same if I lived on top of a mountain."

"Tell me then, why do you come here, volaan? Why do you intrude on my meditation?"

"Ah, right. Sorry, you're the first friendly dragon I've been able to have a prolonged conversation with myself," Auriel nodded a little. "I need to learn the Dragonrend Thu'um. If you can teach it to me."

"Drem. Patience," and Auriel got a sense that he was pleased. "There are formalities which must be observed at the meeting of two of the dov."

Auriel nodded cautiously, and moved a little closer.

"By long tradition, the elder speaks first," Paarthurnax explained. "Hear my Thu'um. Feel it in your bones. Match it, if you are Dovahkiin!"

He turned to a partially destroyed word wall, and let out a blast of fire; two of the words Auriel knew intimately, but the last had been eluding her. When the flames died, Paarthurnax nudged at her gently with his still-warm snout.

"The word calls you," he rumbled a little. "Go to it."

Auriel stepped forward, and caught her breath. It was the last word that she had been seeking. It flowed into her, and settled neatly with the other two.

"A gift, dovahkiin," he rumbled. "Shaal. Understand Fire, as the dov do."

She turned in surprise, and nearly fell over as his knowledge of the whole Shout flowed through her. Farkas steadied her, and after a long moment she just shook her head in no small amount of awe.

"Now," Paarthurnax said. "Show me what you can do. Greet me not as elf, but as Dovah."

_Yol Tor Shaal_

It felt _marvelous_ to have that complete Shout, and she was amazed at the feel of it.

"Ahhh, yes," Paarthurnax sighed a little. "Sossedov los mul. The dragonblood runs strong in you. It is long since I had the pleasure of speech with one of my own kind."

Auriel grinned. She _liked_ this dragon.

"So, you have made your way here to me. No easy thing for a joor... mortal. Even one of Dovah Sos. Dragonblood. What would you ask of me?"

"Can you teach me the Dragonrend shout?" Auriel asked.

"Ah. I have expected you. Prodah. You would not come all this way to ply tinvaak with an old dovah. No. You come seeking your weapon against Alduin..."

"Yes, well, I'll be honest, the Graybeards didn't want me coming up here at all," Auriel shrugged a little. "Though now I do see why. They want to protect you."

"Hmm. Yes. But alas, I cannot teach you the Thu'um you seek. Krosis. It cannot be known to me..." He bowed his head slightly, and Auriel was surprised to read lines of apology in his old dragon form. "Your kind, joor, mortals, created it as a weapon against the dov... dragons. Our hadrimmae, our minds... cannot even comprehend its concepts."

"Hm... that would be a problem," Auriel frowned. "But I need to learn this shout somehow..."

"Drem. All in good time," Paarthurnax settled a little more comfortably. "First, a question for you. Why do you _want_ to learn this Thu'um?"

"Honestly, I kind of don't. But I've been told Alduin will end the world, and... well, I rather like it. I have more things worth living for than I want to give up," and subconsciously Auriel reached out and took Farkas' hand.

"Pruuzah," he nodded. "As good a reason as any. There are many that feel as you do, though not all. Some would say that all things must end so that the next can come to pass. Perhaps this world is simply the egg of the next kloopa. Would you stop the world from being born?"

"The next world can take care of itself," Auriel said firmly. "Right now, I live in this one, and it is this one I will defend."

"Paaz. A fair answer. Ro fus... perhaps you only balance the forces that work to quicken the end of this world. Even we who ride the currents of Time cannot see past Time's end. Those who try to hasten the end may delay it; those who try to delay it may bring it closer," he sighed a little, and again looked somewhat regretful. "But you have indulged my weakness for speech long enough. Krosis. Now I will answer your question. Do you know why I live here at the Monavhen—what you call the Throat of the World?"

"Ah... honestly, I never thought about it," Auriel admitted. "I didn't even know you were a dragon until now..."

"This is the most sacred mountain in Skyrim," he explained. "The mountain of the world. Here, the ancient Tongues, the first mortal masters of the Voice, brought Alduin to battle... and defeated him."

"No doubt with the Dragonrend."

"Yes and no. And he was not truly defeated here either, as otherwise you would not be here, seeking to... defeat him. The Nords of those days used the Dragonrend Shout to cripple Alduin, but that was not enough. It was the Kel. The Elder Scroll. They used it to... cast him adrift on the currents of time."

Auriel blinked. She still had three of the Scrolls in her bag, having been uncertain about what to do with them after dealing with Harkon. Now she was glad she'd kept them.

"So... they used a scroll to send him forward in time," Auriel frowned thoughtfully. "I'm not sure if that's clever or irritating, really..."

"Not intentionally," Paarthurnax replied. "Some hope that he would be gone forever, forever lost. Meyye. I knew better. Time flows ever onward. One day he would surface. Which is why I have lived here. For thousands of mortal years, I have waited. I knew where he would return, but not when."

Auriel looked around, then nodded a little in understanding. If Alduin reappeared at the top of this mountain, it was only a short flight down to what was left of Helgen. Which explained why he'd been there to disrupt the near-beheading for Ulfric and herself.

"Time was... shattered here because of what the ancient Nords did to Alduin," the dragon continued. "If you brought that Kel, that Elder Scroll, here, back to the Tiid Ahroon, the Time-Wound... With the Elder Scroll that was used to break Time, you may be able to... cast yourself to the other end of the break."

Auriel straightened as the concept clicked.

"And as long as I was only _seeing_, I would be able to gain the words of the Shout I need to defeat Alduin!"

"Yes."

Auriel rifled through her bag; she had buried the scrolls down near the bottom, mostly at a loss of what to do with them, but not wanting to release them. She grabbed on that she recalled Dexion had named the Dragon Scroll, and pulled it out. Paarthurnax pulled back a little in surprise.

"You are doom-driven," he said after a minute, "The very bones of the earth will do your bidding. Go then. Fulfill your destiny... take the Scroll to the Time-wound. Do not delay. Alduin will be coming; he cannot miss the signs."

She nodded firmly, and turned a little; the air, she noticed, bent and warped in an odd manner, not too far from where she stood. She moved to stand in the middle of it, then paused and turned to kiss Farkas on the cheek.

"Don't fuss," she scolded gently. "It'll be all right."

He did not look convinced, but there was also nothing he could do about it. Grimly, Auriel lifted the scroll and unrolled it.

She didn't move from her spot, but her vision blurred out, and when it cleared, she was still on the mountain, but it was definitely _not_ the same. The sky was an angry red, full of fire and ash.

"Gormlaith!" Someone ran across her field of vision, and she turned reflexively to follow. "We're running out of time! The battles-"

A dragon landing cut him off, and she could not follow the dov, but she understood the common tongue well enough.

"Today Alduin's lordship shall be restored," the dragon proclaimed. "But I honor your courage. Die now in vain."

It was not, however, meant to be. Another warrior interfered, a woman, and she fought with glee, laughing.

"Know that Gormlaith sent you to your death!" she cried, as she stabbed the dragon through it's eye. Then she turned to her fellow fighter and grinned.

"Hakon! A glorious day, is it not?"

"Have you no thought beyond the blooding of your blade?" Hakon asked wearily.

"Haha, what else is there?" Gormlaith retorted cheerily.

"The battle below goes ill," Hakon replied grimly. "If Alduin does not rise to our challenge, I fear all may be lost."

"You worry to much, brother," she scoffed. "Victory will be ours!"

"Why does Alduin hang back?" Hakon asked, scowling. "We've staked everything on this plan of yours, old man."

Auriel turned, and saw a third, an older man that she had not noticed before.

"He will come," the old man said firmly. "He cannot ignore out defiance. And why should he fear us, even now?"

"We've blooded him well," Gormlaith smirked. "Four of his kin have fallen to my blade alone this day."

"But none have yet stood against Alduin himself," the old man cautioned. "Goltho, Sorii, Birir..."

"_They_ did not have Dragonrend," she retorted. "Once we bring him down, I promise I will have his head."

"You do not understand," the old man sighed and shook his head. "Alduin cannot be slain like a lesser dragon. He is beyond our strength. Which is why I brought the Elder Scroll."

The stunned staring from the other two lasted for about a minute.

"Feldir!" Hakon protested. "We agreed not to use it!"

"I never agreed," Feldir frowned. "And if you are right, I will not need it."

"No," Hakon snapped. "We will deal with Alduin ourselves, here and now."

"We shall see soon enough," Gormlaith said, raising a hand to her blade. "Alduin approaches!"

"So be it," Harkon sighed.

Auriel turned her fuzzy gaze upwards, in time to see Alduin land on the whole word wall that Paarthurnax had launched his word onto minutes ago. He spoke in dov, and Auriel hissed a little; she had no idea what he was saying, and _really_ wanted to know.

"Let those that watch from Sovngarde envy us this day!" Gormlaith cried.

_Joor Zah Frul!_

Auriel heard the words, and for perhaps the first time did not need to see them to absorb them. Whatever the shout did, it forced Alduin to land, and he cursed them soundly.

"What have you done?" he demanded. "What twisted Words have you created?!" And something about Paarthurnax, though she wasn't sure what. "My teeth to his neck! But first... you will die in terror, knowing your final fate... To feed my power, when I come for you in Sovngarde!"

"If I die today, it will not be in terror!" Gormlaith cried, launching herself at Alduin. "You feel fear for the first time worm! I can see it in your eyes! Skyrim will be free!"

Her friends joined the battle, and Alduin remained grounded, fighting back with flicks of wing, tail, and snaps of his teeth. Dragons were more graceful in the sky than on the ground...

Alduin killed Gormlaith first, picking her up in his teeth and flinging her down the mountainside like a ragdoll.

"No, damn you!" Hakon cried. Then, as Alduin turned his attention to the two men, he gritted his teeth and shook his head. "It's no use. Use the Scroll Feldir, now!"

Feldir scrambled back, and lifted the Elder Scroll over his head.

"Hold, Alduin on the Wing!" he cried. "Sister Hawk, granted us your sacred breath to make this contract heard! Begone, World-Eater! By words with older bones than your own, we break you perch on this age and send you out! You are banished! Alduin, we shout you out from all our endings unto the last!"

Alduin turned to Feldir, and took in a breath to call down fire, when a greeninsh light surrounded him, grabbed him up, and took him off. He vanished without a trace.

"You are _banished!_" Feldir cried again.

Auriel's foggy sight became worse; she was losing her grip on the vision bestowed by the scroll.

"It worked," Harkon gasped. "You did it..."

"Yes... the World-Eater is gone," Feldir's voice was mournful. "May the spirits have mercy upon our souls..."

That seemed to be the end of it, and Auriel staggered as her sight cleared. Farkas steadied her, then pulled her out of the way as Alduin himself appeared in the air overhead.

"My belly is full of the souls of your fellow mortals, Dovahkiin," He growled. "Die now, and await your fate in Sovngarde!"

"You are too late, Alduin," Paarthurnax cried.

_Joor Zah Frul!_

As in the vision, Alduin was forced to land. It wore off several times, and each time she was forced to refocus, to Shout again. Paarthurnax helped, driving Alduin across the sky to where her voice could reach. He fell, briefly, then raised his head. Auriel tensed, wondering if an arrow through his eye might finally be his undoing.

"Meyz mul, Dovahkiin," He said, close enough for her to understand the words, if not their meaning. "You have become strong. But I am Al-du-in. Firstborn of Akatosh! Mulaagi zok lolt. I cannot be slain here, by you, or anyone else! You cannot prevail against me. I will outlast you... _mortal!_"

The backwash of air from his wings knocked both her and Farkas off their feet into the snow. Paarthurnax moved over to help them upright, then nudged Auriel affectionately.

"You truly have the voice of a dovah," he praised. "Alduin's allies will think carefully after this victory."

"That was _not_ a victory," Auriel said testily. "He ran away!"

"True, this is not the final krongah—victory. But not even the heroes of old were able to defeat Alduin in open battle," he reminded her. "Alduin was always pahlok, arrogant, in his power. He took domination as his birthright. This should shake the loyalty of the dov who serve him."

Auriel gave him a suspicious look. Yes, she liked this old dragon, but that has sounded far too smugly superior... as though he had been _waiting_ for a chance to see Alduin brought low, even if only temporarily. After a moment, she shook her head and sighed.

"I need to find out where he went, and figure out how to get there," she frowned.

"Yes... one of his allies could tell us... but it will not be so easy to convince one of them to betray him," Paarthurnax couldn't frown like a human, but she could hear it in his voice. "Perhaps the palace in Whiterun, Dragonsreach... it was built to house a captive dovah. A fine place to trap one of Alduin's allies, hmmm?"

"...you're right, I think. Assuming the old man would let me use the palace..." Auriel frowned. "But I lack one thing. The name of one of Alduin's allies."

"I do not doubt that you could convince him of the need," Paarthurnax said. "When you have secured the trap, I will give you a name to Speak."

Auriel blinked, then smiled a little.

"Hey, when this is over, if I'm still alive... will you teach me more? Not... Words of Power, but just your language."

"I would be pleased and honored to do so, Dovahkiin. By what name may I call you?"

"Auriel. My name is Auriel."

"Ahhh... named for the god Himself," Paarthurnax nodded a little. "Yes, Auriel. Briityolkiir. I will teach you."


	44. Forty-three: Alduin's doom

Forty-three:

Alduin's doom

Vignar Gray-Mane stared at Auriel after she had finished making her request.

"I... must've misheard you," He said, and started laughing. "I though I heard you say you want to trap a dragon in my palace."

"You didn't mishear me," Auriel sighed. "I'm quite serious, and you know I wouldn't ask if it wasn't necessary."

"Well..." He sighed a little. "I do owe you a great deal, what with the war and everything... But I don't understand. Why let a dragon into the _heart_ of my city when we've been working so hard to keep them out?"

"I'm going to assume you know who I'm speaking of when I say that Alduin World-Eater has come back..."

Vignar sat upright in shock.

"Alduin?" he breathed. "The World-Eater himself? But... how can we hope to fight him? Doesn't his appearance mean it's the end times?"

"It's only the end times if you give up," Auriel said firmly. "And I have no intention of doing that."

"I didn't say anything about giving up!" the old man said indignantly. "Now, what's this nonsense about trapping a _dragon_ in my palace?"

"It's not Alduin, so don't worry about that," Auriel smiled dryly. "But we're going to trap an ally of his, and use him to find out where Alduin's gone."

"Then Whiterun will stand with you, dragonborn," Vignar proclaimed. "We'll take the risk, and gain the glory, whether it be in victory or defeat. So what's the plan then? How do you intend to lure a dragon into the trap?"

"Ah... yes... I haven't quite gotten that far yet," she admitted. "But I know someone I can call on for help, and with luck, I'll soon have a name."

"Then... I'll leave that to you," he said grandly. "I trust you know your business."

Auriel turned away and rolled her eyes at Farkas as they stepped down the dais. He chuckled a little and hugged her lightly.

"So who're we goin to?" he asked.

"Mmm?"

"Well, you know lots of people that can give you a dragon name, right? Who're we goin to?"

"Ah," Auriel smiled a little. "Well, since Paarth was kind enough to offer, I thought we might visit him."

"You don't much like the Blades, huh?"

"Not really. For a group that's theoretically about serving the dragonborn, they're not actually that _interested_ in serving the dragonborn," Auriel sniffed a little. "Not that I would want them in any sort of capacity while I have you, Far, but it is a sticking point. They don't respect me, nor seem inclined to listen. If I survive this meeting with Alduin, I may go and speak with them again, but not before, I think."

"Okay."

She smiled up at him, fondly.

"You would have accepted just a 'not really' wouldn't you?"

"Yup. But I like hearing you talk," he nuzzled her fondly. "Your voice is beautiful. Like you."

Auriel ducked her head, and blushed; really, he said the sweetest things at times, and she didn't know what to say to something like that. So instead she gave him a quick kiss.

Paarthurnax was pleased to see them again, nudging both affectionately with his wings.

"Drem Yol Lok," he said pleasantly. "Greetings. You return quickly."

"As quickly as feet carry us," Auriel replied with a slight grimace. "I got the Jarl to agree that we could use Dragonsreach. Now I need a dragon. Have you a name?"

"I have been pondering on that question," he admitted after a moment. "I have tasted the voices of Alduin's allies on the wind. There is one I remember well. Odahviing. He is the one to tell us where Alduin has gone."

"...all right, but... how do that get him to Dragonsreach?"

"Ah, I forget how little you know of the dov," Paarthurnax said. "Our names are made up of three Rotmulaag. Words of Power. You see... Paar-thur-nax. A Thu'um. A Shout, yes?"

Auriel blinked. She hadn't actually considered that, and it surprised her.

"What will make him come to the call?" she asked after a moment. "Not everyone answers to their name all the time..."

"He is not compelled to come, but the dovah are prideful by nature. He will not resist such a challenge... especially from you, Auriel. But Odahviing he is... headstrong?" And she could heard the frown again in his voice as he tried to puzzle out the word. "Borziik. Rash. Even among the dov, he was known for this. He will not resist the challenge of your voice, Brityolkiir. He will come."

"...you've called me that twice now. I know Yol is fire, but what do the other two words mean?" Auriel asked curiously.

"In time, dovahkiin. In time. Now, hear his name. Odahviing. Taste it in the air. Od-ah-viing. Know it in your su'um. Od-ah-viing."

Auriel caught her breath, and let Paarthurnax guide her through learning the name she needed. After a minute, she did feel it, _did_ understand it. She smiled a little grimly, and together with Farkas, headed back to Whiterun and Dragonsreach.

Vignar sat up a little straighter when she walked in.

"So, you figure it out?"

"I did," she nodded. "Are you ready to trap a dragon?"

"As promised, my men stand ready. The great chains are oiled, and we wait only on your word."

"Then let's trap us a dragon."

"I hope you know what you're doing," Vignar sighed a little. "I'm putting my city in your hands."

"Trust me. If this works, no one will be hurt."

He seemed unconvinced, but his was nothing on the worry she could smell from Farkas. She shook her head a little, and rested a hand on her husband's arm.

"Remember. Don't attack. Leave this to me."

"I don't like it," he growled. "What if he tries to eat you?"

"Farkas. It's my risk. You're going to have to trust me. Please."

He growled a little more.

"Farkas," Auriel said firmly. "If you can't listen, go elsewhere. Believe it or not, I know what I'm about to do. I know the danger, and I know the risk. But if I do nothing, Alduin will return again, and I will only be right back where I started."

"I just... You in danger. I don't like it."

"I know, Far. I don't like you in danger either. But there are some things that are just impossible to avoid, and this is one of them."

He let out a low sigh, and hung his head a little.

"All right... I'll stay back."

"Good," and she leaned up to kiss him very gently. "It will be all right."

They walked up to the back courtyard of Dragonsreach, and Auriel took a deep breath.

_Odahviing!_

For several long minutes, there was nothing but silence. Vignar turned to her, mouth open to ask a question—demand an answer more like—when a dragon's roar cut through the air, and furious wingbeats cut through the clouds. On his first pass, he grabbed an unwary guard, and flung them high into the sky. Auriel had been just as unprepared and scrambled back into more cover as his pass had kicked up dust and gravel hard enough to sting.

"Dovahkiin, here I am!" he cried, his voice mocking.

_Joor Zah Frul!_

Auriel grinned as he was brought down, and backed away at a steady pace as he came for her. The guards timed it perfectly, and the trap fell onto Odahviing's neck, locking him firmly in place. He stared at her for a moment, then bowed his head.

"Zu'u Bronaar," he growled. "You went to a lot of trouble to put me in this... humiliating position."

"Yes, yes I did," Auriel smiled sweetly. "Do you feel like telling me what I wish to know, or should I just leave you there for a bit?"

"No doubt you want to know where to find Alduin?" he asked. "One reason I cam to your call was to test your Thu'um for myself. Many of us have begun to question Alduin's lordship. Whether his Thu'um was truly the strongest. Among ourselves of course. None we ready to openly defy him."

"The _point_, Odahviing. Alduin. Where?"

"Unslaad krosis. Innumerable pardons. I digress."

A trait common among dragons it seemed, since Paarthurnax was quite similar. Auriel just shrugged a little, and gestured for him to continue.

"He has traveled to Sovngarde to feed on the souls of the mortal dead," Odahviing explained. "A privilege he jealously guards... His door to Sovngarde is Skuldafn. One of his ancient fanes, high in the eastern mountains. Surely I do not need to warn you that all his remaining strength is marshaled there."

"I am hardly surprised," she sighed.

"Now that I have answered your question, you will allow me to go free?"

Auriel frowned at him speculatively. Then shook her head.

"Until Alduin is dead, I'm afraid that would be a bad idea, seeing as you're his ally and all that."

"Ah. Hm... well... Krosis. There is one... detail about Skuldafn that I neglected to mention."

Seeing as she had suspected as much, she merely raised an eyebrow at him.

"You may have the Thu'um of a dovah, but without the wings of one, you will never set foot in Skuldafn."

"I thought as much..."

"Of course, I could fly you there," he offered. "Though not while imprisoned like this."

Auriel chuckled a little.

"You know, I expected that," she smiled a little. "Do I have your word, on you name, that if I release you, you will carry me to Skuldafn?"

"Yes. Alduin has proven himself unfit to rule, and thus, I fly my own path. Free me, and I will take you to Skuldafn."

Auriel nodded, and moved up the stairs, towards the release. Below, she heard Farengar approach Odahviing, as Vignar cheered at the capture, clearly thinking of the fame he would soon have. She shook her head a little, and pulled the release. The people scattered almost immediately as Odahviing turned around and moved towards the balcony edge.

Farkas reached out and caught up her hand as she moved down the stairs. She smiled fondly at him and kissed him.

"Stay safe, love," He said, pulling her close briefly.

"I will. I'll see you at home."

He kissed her firmly, leaving her breathless, and held her tightly for several long minutes. Then, slowly, he released her and stepped back. Auriel turned quickly, and headed down the stairs quickly; leaving him behind again was again one of the hardest things she'd ever done.

"Are you ready to see the world as only a dovah can?" Odahviing asked as she moved up beside him.

"Yes. Let's go."

It was not the first time she'd flown on dragonback, but there was a marked difference between flying in Apocrypha and flying through the skies of Tamriel. Auriel stared, and she _laughed_ in delight at the sights below. Perhaps, if she was lucky, she could talk Paarthurnax into doing this for her too. It was disheartening when it ended, but the jolt of landing reminded her very firmly of what she was here to do.

"This is as far as I can take you," Odahviing said. "Krif voth ahkrin. I will look for your return, or Alduin's."

He took off again, scatting dust and sand, and Auriel turned her attention to the ruin before her. It was large, black-stoned, and intimidating. Auriel pulled out her bow, and smiled sharply.

"Bring it on."

It was brought in the form of dragons and draugr. Auriel defeated them all with a mix of arrows, magic, and sharp use of her own Thu'um. She was in a space in her mind of perfect calm, and deadly accuracy; it didn't matter that the draugr charged, or used Thu'um to try and deflect her. She took them all out, one by one. In fact the only one that was truly any sort of challenge was the last one, just before the portal to Sovngarde. The dragon priest. He did not damage her calm, no, but he nearly took her life.

Auriel was forced to take the time to heal her injuries, and then rest up for a bit so that she would be able to take on Alduin. _That_ damaged her calm some. It gave her time to think, to wonder what she thought she was doing. To miss Farkas' simple way of seeing things, and wish he could be there with her.

When she felt ready, and picked up the priest's staff, and put it back into the seal. The larger seal directly in front fell away, not quite like the Soul Cairn, but close enough to it that Auriel grimaced. Hopefully this one wouldn't require a toll.

She hesitated one moment, two, then firmed her resolved, found her calm, and jumped headlong into Sovngarde.

It was a realm of unearthly beauty, and she could hear the faintest strains of music from everywhere and nowhere. The sky overhead was painted with the colors of the skylights, but not in any colors she had ever seen before. It put her in mind of the Shivering Isles, and she shivered a little. Giant stone statues with no faces, stared at her as she moved down the stairs cautiously, into the mists below. In the distance she could see what had to be the mead hall. A small part of her wondered if she would see Kodlak in this fog.

That was, of course, assuming she could find her own way there herself. She considered the problem, then smiled and used the Clear Skies Thu'um, taught to her by the Graybeards, and found her path again. But there were many souls lost in the mists, and while they could see her, they could not see her path. She could see Alduin, however, and her Shout diverted him from the feeding. It was a small favor, but not good enough.

She found Kodlak indeed, though he didn't seem to see her properly. She also found Rikke. Tullius. And a hundred other lost souls that she could not name. All of them filled with fear, lost in the mists, and prey for Alduin. She quickened her step and Thu'um both. She would have to face Tsun to gain entry to the hall, she sensed, for she was alive, not dead. But she needed the help of those three heroes who had once cast Alduin out of time.

Where one shout had been powerful, four shouts would bring Alduin down to a level where his defeat was inevitable. Or so she hoped.

Tsun stood before a great bridge made of whale bones. Auriel approached him with her head held high. Not fearless, but proud, and brave. She was not afraid any longer, and she was ready for this to be ended.

"What brings you here, wayfarer-grim, to soul's end, Shor's gift to those who wander beyond?"

"Pursuit of Alduin World-Eater."

"A fearful errand. No few have chafed to face the Worm since he set his soul-snare here at Sovngarde's end. But Shor restrained our fearful onslaught. Perhaps, in his wisdom, your doom he foresaw."

"I seek entrance to the Hall of Valor," Auriel said firmly. "I would call upon those who would face Alduin for aid."

"No shade are you, as usually here passes. Yet living, you dare the land of the dead," Tsun said quietly. "By what right do you request entry."

Auriel was quiet a moment, allowing the answer to flow.

"By right of birth. I carry the blood of dragons, and speak with their Tongue. I am Dragonborn."

"Ah," Tsun smiled. "Too long has it been since I last faced the doom-driven hero of the dragon's blood."

"Will you let me pass?"

"Living or dead, by the decree of Shor, none may pass this perilous bridge, living or dead, til they pass the warrior's test."

The scuffle was brief, and quick. Tsun looked up at her from the ground she had planted him in.

"You fight well. I find you worthy," He smiled and stood as she backed up a step. "It is long since one of the living has entered here. May Shor's favor follow you and your errand."

Auriel nodded briefly, and darted quickly across the bridge. Normally she didn't worry about heights, but this was the land of the dead, and there was no ground to be seen below the wale-bone bridge. The mead hall's door swung open before her, and she stepped into the cheeriest of warmths.

"Welcome dragonborn," a Nord said. Auriel's eyes widened slightly as she recognized the axe slung over his back; Ysgramor, of the Companions. "It is long since our halls have heard steps such as yours, with Alduin's soul-snare set just outside. By Shor's command we sheathed out blades, and ventured not into the vale's dark mists. But three await your word, to loose their fury upon your perilous foe. Gormlaith the Fearless, Hakon the Heavy-Handed, and Feldir the Old await you yonder."

And he pointed across the room to where three familiar faces stood, impatient and waiting. Auriel bowed in thanks and walked over to them. At her approach, all three stood, and Gormlaith drew her sword, gleeful at the prospect of battle.

"At long last!" Gormlaith's grin was fierce. "Alduin's doom is now ours to seal; just speak the word and with high hearts we'll hasten forth to smite the worm wherever he lurks."

"Hold comrades," Feldir cautioned. "Let us counsel take before battle is blindly joined. Alduin's mist is more than a snare. It's shadowy gloom is his shield and cloak. But with four Voices joined, our valor combined, we can blast the mist and bring him to battle."

"Feldir speaks wisdom," Hakon said. "The World-Eater, coward, fears you Dragonborn. We must drive away his mist, Shouting together, and then unsheathe our blades in desperate battle with our black-winged foe."

"To battle my friends!" Gormlaith cried, raising her sword high. "The fields will echo with the clamors of war, our wills undaunted!"

Auriel nodded, and together they left the Hall of Valor, pelting across the bone bridge to the clearing on the opposite side. It was the perfect place to conduct battle. Unfortunately, the mist had come down thicker in the brief time she had spent indoors, and she spared the breath for a choice curse.

"We cannot fight our foe in this mist!" Feldir called.

"Clear skies!" Gormlaith replied. "Combine our Shouts!"

_Lok vah koor!_

Alduin tried to drop mists on them in response, and they cleared them a second time. Once more the words rang out from Alduin and Hakon cursed liberally.

"Does his strength have no end?" he demanded. "Is our struggle in vain?"

"Stand fast!" Gormlaith cried, even as Auriel herself turned to reprimand him. "His strength is failing! Once more, and his might will be broken!"

"One more time, and the World-Eater must face us!" Feldir agreed.

_Lok vah Koor!_

Alduin's roar of rage echoed across Sovngarde.

"The endless wait gives way to battle!" Gormlaith's fierce grin reappeared. "Alduin's doom, his death or ours!"

"Stand together and we shall defeat him!" Feldir cried.

"I'd suggested _ducking_ first!" Auriel replied, and suited action to words as Alduin swept over their heads, spewing fire and rage.

They scattered, then came back together.

"Use Dragonrend to bring him within reach!" Gormlaith demanded.

_Joor Zah Frul!_

Alduin plummeted to the ground, and the four attacked. His hide repelled most of the damage, but every time he seemed about to take flight, they would hit him again with Dragonrend, forcing him to stay down. And eventually, Auriel got in the shot that they needed. Alduin bellowed in pain, fear, and rage, and seemed to disintegrate before their eyes into nothing more than the soul. He vanished in an explosion of light and dark, dust and ash. The three heroes of old cheered, slapping each other gleefully on the back, and shouting their victory to the multicolored sky above.

Auriel stood there silently, and contemplated the spot where Alduin had fallen.

"This was a mighty deed," Tsun proclaimed. "The doom of Alduin encompassed at last, and cleansed is Sovngarde of his evil snare. They will sing of this battle in Shor's hall forever. But your fate lies elsewhere."

Auriel lifted her head a little, as the mists lifted fully, and warmth fell across her face. The scenery around took on a more ethereal glow that had little to do with the mists, and more to do with the fact that this was the land of the dead, where she had no place.

"When you have completed your count of days, I may welcome you again with glad friendship," Tsun continued, "and bid you to join the blessed feasting."

"All hail the Dragonborn!" And Auriel jumped to hear the cry from more than just the three voices of the heroes of old. "Hail her with great praise!"

She flushed a little, and shook her head slightly. Tsun smiled a little.

"Are you ready to rejoin the living?"

"Yes... Yes I am."

"Return now to Nirn, with this gift from Shor, my lord; a shout to bring a hero from Sovngarde in your hour of need."

It was the last thing she remembered. Tsun Shouted, and the world fell away. When she came to, she was in the snow at the Throat of the World, Paarthurnax on one side, and Odahviing not far from the other. Dragons were arrayed before her, and as one they spoke in dov to the sky. She had a feeling they were proclaiming Alduin's death, and one used the words that Durnehviir had used; 'qunahren.' Vanquisher.

One by one they took flight, stirring up snow and thunder as they Spoke, and once more Auriel wished she knew what was being said.

"So, it is done," Paarthurnax said quietly, once all were in the air. "Alduin Diilon. The one who came before all the others, who has always been, is no more."

"...Are you all right?" Auriel asked uncertainly. "You don't... well, you don't sound very happy about this."

"Happy? No, I am not happy. Alduin was once the crown of our father Akatosh's creation," he replied. "You did what was necessary; Alduin had flown far from the path of what was right in his pahlok—the arrogance of his power. But I cannot celebrate his fall. He was my brother once. This world will never be the same."

"I am sorry for your loss... but this world is far better without him."

"Perhaps," Paarthurnax sighed. "At least it will continue to exist. And as you told me once, the next world will have to take care of itself. Even I cannot see past Time's ending. But I forget myself. Krosis. Melancholy is an easy trap for a dovah to fall into. You have won a mighty victory. One that will echo through the ages of this world, for those who have eyes to see. Savor your triumph, Brityolkiir. This is not he last you will write upon the currents of Time."

Auriel smiled a little, wearily, and watched as he took off.

"I feel younger than I have in many an age," he proclaimed. "Many of the dovahhe are now scattered across Keizaal. Without Alduin's lordship, they may yet bow to the vahzen... rightness of my Thu'um. But willing or no, they will hear it. Fare thee well, Brityolkiir! For a time, I must go. But I will return, for I have not forgotten that _I_ will be the one to teach you of the dov."

She watched as he flew off, then yelped and dodged out of the way as Odahviing, previously flying, landed with a bone-jarring crash that nearly knocked her over. He laughed at her stagger, and caught her on one wing.

"Pruzah wundunne wah Wuth Gein. I wish the old one luck in his... quest," Odahviing said dryly. "But I doubt many will wish to exchange Alduin's lordship for the tyranny of Paarthurnax's 'Way of the Voice.' As for myself, you've proved your mastery twice-over. Thuri, Brityolkiir. I gladly acknowledge the power of your Thu'um."

Auriel blinked a few times, then gingerly patted his snout.

"And that means... what, exactly?"

"Zu'u Odahviing. Call me when you have need, and I will come if I can."

And with that, he leapt back into the sky, and it wasn't long before he too was gone. Auriel shook her head a little in disgust.

"Should've told him to take me down the mountain," she sighed. "Ah well... best to start walking."


	45. Epilogue: In the end

Epilogue:

In the end

I haven't thought about my adventures in Skyrim in a very long time. But the chance to reminisce came not long ago, when I finally decided to rid myself of the beast-blood. I have no need of it now, not at my age, and I am pleased to have left behind a world made more of peace than of evil.

My legacy is impressive, I will admit. Five children with mortals, and then three more with the last remaining Snow Elf that we currently know of. He, of course, will be outliving me, as I outlived my Farkas.

My children are all well placed. Liriene and Sanae, the children of a liaison with Brynjolf when I thought my Farkas dead, are both part of the Thieves Guild. Sanae aspires to be the best thief in history, as the Gray Fox was, and Liriene has the idea that she may one day be Guild Master. That role has been Karliah's for the past century, and she has enjoyed it much. The Guild itself prospers, and does not want for jobs.

When Brynjolf passed on, Sanae volunteered to be his replacement Nightingale. I am still not entirely sure that I approve of that, but she is her own woman, and as stubborn as I, so I did not gainsay her.

Of my children with Farkas, Neline has taken my place as Arch-Mage of the College in Winterhold. It suits her well, she was always the studious one, fascinated by the number of books and always wanting to learn more of what I knew. I tempered her with caution, as I do all my children, and they learned their lessons well. She will not wantonly seek power, and cause an incident like Saarthal.

Fen and Savraiel found their way into the Companions. Vilkas eventually learned to like them, though he took more to Fen, who resembled Farkas than to Savraiel who did not. Fen has been the Harbinger-in-training ever since Athis decided he would rather fight than give advice, and it suits my only son well. He may look like his father, but he thinks like me.

All my children possess the possibility to be dovahkiin, but of them, only Neline took to the language as I did. She cannot Shout, but it is the language itself that she loves, and as I did in my youthfulness, she spends a good amount of time conversing with Paarth. Paarth actually makes his home at the College now, on its roof, and only a very few every truly know of his presence. My clever daughter has a great love of her teacher.

I did not take up with Gelebor until almost a full century had passed from the deaths of the two men I sought to share my life with. Brynjolf's death was hard, but that I could share with Karliah. Farkas' death left me adrift, seeking comfort in the skies from the backs of Paarth or Odah. My children were grown enough to have their own lives, though they did come to me, one by one, seeking the comfort that we all needed. The house was crowded for a while, but it was a good crowd, and they were my wise children.

Inaria, Sarraslyn, and Eriesa are old enough now to wonder what life must be like beyond the Forgotten Valley in which I chose to make my home once Gelebor became more than just a friend to me. They fear not the dragons of Skyrim, although they cannot Shout, for Odahviing and Paarthurnax have taken it upon themselves to impress upon other dov that messing with the children of Brityolkiir—beautiful fire child, thanks ever so much Paarth—was a bad idea in general.

Of the three, I believe Inaria will most likely set off on an expedition to find more of her father's people, and bring them back here. Though the Falmer are slowly re-evolving into the beings they once were, it is not enough, even after almost four hundred years. She wishes to see more of her father's people, if not her father's kin, and learn what they have to teach. I think, some day, she may end up at the College with her elder half sister.

Sarraslyn is curious. She wishes to know about other races, and I expect when she goes, she will not likely return. I can hardly blame her; at her age, the desire to leave was strong, and I made my journey well. I traversed the lands of Cyrodiil, and helped solve the Oblivion Crisis. I became the Gray Fox, though where the cowl is now is anyone's guess. My path diverted into the shadows, and my skills were not used for the best of things at times, but in the end I cam here, to Skyrim. And here I yet remain.

Eriesa is the one most content in the Valley, and in the Chantry of Auri-El. Though, like most who learned of the name, she does tease me about it on a regular basis. Ah, but she is my sweet child, my gentle and kind one. Her father will be glad of her company after my passing.

I remember the Moot, when it finally met, all those years ago. Ulfric eventually married Elisif, and I admit, I was not sure which one I felt more sympathy for, but she did come to care for him, in time. I was asked, and accepted for a time, the chance to be steward in Solitude. While Farkas and Brynjolf were alive, and even for a time after their passing, I kept it up, but no longer. Skyrim and it's people are no longer mine to worry about.

The Thalmor tried, a few times, to continue their vendetta against me, but it never went well. The Guild either scattered, or attacked, depending on the feel of the day, and unless invited, getting across the bridge into the College is a wasted effort. The Companions, well, attacking them was always a suicide run, and no one in their right mind raised a hand against Ulfric. Or the Dawnguard for that matter.

Serana and I have kept in touch. She visits me the most often, and tells me how things go with new recruits and old ones. She and Isran actually became a great deal more than friends, though he often times refused to admit to it if other people were around. He never _quite_ stopped hating her choice to be a vampire, but he was able to put it aside long enough to love her before he passed on.

To you, reader and listener, for I do not doubt others will tell my tales, I grant some of the last pieces of my wisdom.

Love is worth living, dying, and fighting for.

Family can be built, it does not have to be made of blood. It is made up of honor, trust, loyalty, forgiveness, and acceptance.

Everyone has their story.

Perhaps some day we shall meet. In the halls of Sovngarde, or the mists of the Evergloam... or even in the dusty shelves of Apocrypha. I do not know where my soul will end up. But I do know this. I have no regrets. When I die, I shall die at peace, and wherever I find myself, I shall pass that time in contentment. For I am Dovahkiin.

I am Auriel Talmanari.

-End-


	46. A final note

So, I know, again, author's notes as chapters tend to be frown on. But y'knoooow...

I wanted to say thanks. Auriel's story is a long and complicated one, and you lot stuck through with me while I wrote it. So I figured I'd give you all a few extras.

Yes, Auri did go back to the Blades once she'd recovered from exhaustion again. She chewed them out very thoroughly for even _daring_ to suggest she kill Paarth. She told them very firmly that if they touched Paarth or Odah, they wouldn't much live to regret it. Paarth and Odah have been very much Blade-free. The Blades themselves didn't _quite_ flourish without the Thalmor, but they didn't have to hide any longer. At least in Skyrim.

For the curious, Auriel and Farkas had three kids, a pair of identical twin girls, and a boy. Neline and Savariel inherited most of Auriel's traits, but the silver eyes came over from Farkas. Fen looks more like his father, but has his mothers blue eyes.

Neline took after Auriel in magical skills, and potion making, and found herself a place at the College. When her mother offered her the chance to be Arch-Mage, she took it, and has never looked back. She is the foremost authority on dragons in Skyrim, especially once Esbern passes on.

Savariel had a natural affinity with weapons, and a love of the Companions. She joined when she was old enough for her Trial, though Auriel didn't quite approve. Vilkas didn't either, but both of them were swayed by Farkas. She has since acquired a number of scars, and has a few children of her own. The beastblood, by the way, has been entirely eliminated from the Companions. Aela was the last to carry it, and never shared after Auriel.

Fen is the only boy in a family of girls, and he was fairly spoiled for a while until he started getting regular knocks on the head for being a prideful little snit. Odahviing thought it was hilarious. He was quick to learn, however, and though many people say he acts like his father in not thinking, that is only a face he presents. Fen is _always_ thinking, and it serves him well in his position as future Harbinger.

Farkas went missing for three years after the twins turned ten, and Auriel did turn to Brynjolf for comfort. It was accidental, but she bore him a pair of twins as well. Liriene and Sanae. Both know that Brynjolf was their father, but when Farkas came back, they latched onto him in utter devotion, and Brynjolf became more of a beloved Uncle. Auriel, of course, felt horrible that she'd given up on Farkas, but he was less bothered about it, and was more than willing to let the girls call him 'papa'. It wasn't long after that when Auriel became pregnant with Fen, though.

Liriene and Sanae are almost identical. The only difference is their eyes. Sanae's eyes are green, while Liriene inherited the unique blue of Auriel. They were both made of mischief and tricks, and took to thievery like ducks to water. Auriel was amused. Brynjolf too. Farkas... less so, but he made his peace with it. As long as the girls never talked shop around him, at least.

Auriel did learn everything she could about Skyrim, and Solstheim. But her home was in Falkreath, until Farkas' death of old age. She remained the Steward of Solitude for a while after the passing, as the work gave her something to do, and she was fond of Ulfic's children, but in the end she made her way back to the Lost Valley, and Gelebor slowly won her over.

Their first girl was Inaria, and she surprised them both by portraying predominantly Snow Elf traits. She was pale of hair, and of skin, which enhanced the brigth blue of her eyes. She's always been fascinated by Snow Elves, Falmer, and Dwemer ruins, and she thinks if she can understand the Dwemer, she can maybe help the Falmer. She also wants to know more about the Snow Elf race as a whole, and has talked about an expedition to find others, which Gelebor approves of cautiously.

Next came Sarraslyn, looking more like Auriel than Gelebor, and with Auriel's insatiable curiosity. She chafed at the confinement to the Lost Valley, and would always as a thousand questions about other races whenever her mother would tell stories of past adventures. Auriel does not expect to see her again, when she finally decides to leave for the rest of the world, and has done her best to prepare her for whatever may lay ahead.

Finally, there is Eriesa, last, and possibly most doted on child. She has her mother's golden skin and blue eyes, and the fair hair of her father's race. She is sweet to a fault, and very much a child that will never stray far from home. She has dedicated herself to the Chantry of Auri-El, and though she does tease her mother, she also knows that Auriel means love.

As for Auriel herself, well, in her mid six-hundreds she finally completed the purification ritual on herself and eliminated the last of the beast blood. She passed on peacefully not long after, and where she is now... well, only the gods can say.


End file.
